


Whumptober (but make it Sickfic) 2020

by SwallowsSong



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alex and Hotch being teen parents, Caitlin wanted it so Caitlin gets it, Gen, Haley and Hotch make me do the heart squeezy, Hospitals, I'm not sure what to tag?, Illness, Sickfic, Some are themetaphorgirl's Patron Saint AU, Vomit, Whumptober 2020 but make it sickfic, some of these are SCRC AU, the playground kids make an appearance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwallowsSong/pseuds/SwallowsSong
Summary: Caitlin (themetaphorgirl) wanted me to do this when I made a joke about it and at this point she's 90% of my impulse control so here we are! Some will come from my SCRC AU, and some will come from her (amazing, wonderful, spectacular) Patron Saint AU.Basically Whumptober but with the sickfic slant becuase I can't write pure whump but I CAN write sickfic so here we are.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	1. Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - Autumn  
> SCRC AU

“You’re wheezing.”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “I’m  _ fine _ .”

Reid glanced nervously across the lawn to where Kit was standing, talking to local law with JJ. Gideon was down at the base of the hill where the crime scene was, and Elle had gone with Morgan to the ME ten minutes before. Hotch had asked Reid to walk through the rest of the park, to scout out the area, but they hadn’t moved from the top of the hill. Reid had been waiting for Hotch to lead, and he was confused as to why they weren’t walking.

Until he’d heard the wheezing. 

“Oh, don’t let Dakota hear you say that,” Reid said. “She’ll make you play.”

Hotch rolled his eyes, willing himself to take a deep breath. It’s not that he couldn’t. He just couldn’t… successfully. While most people experienced their seasonal allergies in the spring or even summer, he figured he had to be the only person in the world that had them come on in autumn. 

“She hates it when you call her that,” Hotch responded, ignoring Reid’s claim completely. “Doesn’t she correct you?”

Reid shook his head quickly, taking a sip from his coffee cup and nearly scalding himself. “Ouch, no? She doesn’t. Why would she? Her name is Dakota.”

“Her name,” Hotch said, sniffling wetly and trying to draw a breath to full capacity, “is Kit. She prefers Kit. Just like I prefer Hotch.”

“But Hotch is a nickname for your last name. Your actual name, that people actually call you. Dakota’s name is Dakota-”

“And her middle name is-” Hotch broke off with a series of coughs, rubbing harshly at his chest. “Katherine,” he finished, but he was breathless, and his words had lost their conviction. He rubbed at his right ear, which was itchy, and hurt, and was making his head throb. He’s been in a bad mood the entire day, but up until that point it had just deterred everyone from speaking to him more than they had to. Reid was always the exception.

“I know that,” Reid said easily, “I just don’t care. Maybe you should ask her if she has any over the counter medication in that backpack.”

Hotch shook his head quickly, sending Reid a look that would normally silence him, but with his eyes starting to water, it looked more pathetic than anything. “I’m done talking about it.”

Hotch finally did lead Reid across the grass, trying to keep his posture and breathing as normal as possible as they started to pass where Kit and JJ were speaking. Hotch’s mind was working slower than he would have liked, seeming to fill with cotton as the minutes went by. 

Jackson, Mississippi had to have been the worst possible location for him at that moment, his allergies that “weren’t allergies” being exacerbated by all of the pollen in the air. When he’d put in his preferred cities all those years ago when he graduated the academy, Jackson was at the bottom of the list. He’d done his research, he knew what bloomed there when September came around. They’d never worked a case there, not in autumn, and he wished as he watched Reid grab Kit’s arm that the file had never crossed JJ’s desk.

“Dakota, can I have you?”

Kit’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes flashing the way that made Gideon swear to Hotch that she “was trouble, Aaron, how don’t you see it?”

“I’m  _ sorry _ ?”

"Reid-" Hotch tried, but the younger man didn't stop.

"Now?"

Kit watched him for a moment, her eyes changing to show worry before she nodded, looking at JJ with a sigh. "I'll probably be back."

"No problem," JJ said, and Kit nodded to the local sheriff before she followed behind Reid. 

When they got to Hotch, and it took Kit all of three seconds to ask quietly, "What's wrong with you?"

Hotch raised an eyebrow, trying to look annoyed, but he was sure the fact that his eyes were watering didn't help. "Pardon?"

"I said, what's wrong with you?" She repeated, her voice even and measured. She wasn’t accusing him, which he appreciated, but he wasn’t going to back down that easily.

“There’s nothing wrong,” he started, “Reid was-”

“Wanting your opinion on Hotch’s wheezing,” Reid finished smoothly, nodding at the end of his statement. He’d placed himself next to Kit instead of Hotch, so that both the younger agents were staring at their unit chief with searching eyes. 

Hotch was less than thrilled. He straightened, but wanted to kick himself when he heard his own lungs protest as he took an uncomfortable breath. He  _ was _ wheezing. Loudly. 

He shifted his weight and sniffled. “I’m fi-”

“If you say “I’m fine,” I’m benching you,” Kit deadpanned, her eyes narrowing as she listened to his breath. “You sound like you’re trying to breathe through a straw, and losing.”

“The pollen count is unusually high in this area for this time of year. Sixteen percent higher than this time last year.” Reid supplied the statistics easily, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking between the other two.

Kit and Hotch were locked in a stalemate, her clear green eyes dead set on his weepy brown ones. His hand twitched, but he knew that if he started to rub at his eyes, or his ear, he would be a goner. He’d once told Kit that she was the lead on medical during cases. They were on a case, and if she wanted to, she could bench him.

Aaron Hotchner wasn’t a liar, so he’d have to let her. 

Finally, Kit said, “Your file doesn’t say that you have seasonal allergies.”

“I don’t,” he said quickly. He sounded convincing, and he might have been able to get away with it if he hadn’t broken into sharp coughs that only made his chest feel tighter. His lashes started to dampen as his eyes squeezed shut, and once the coughing fit ended, he couldn’t stop himself from wiping his running nose with the back of his hand.

“Oh,  _ absolutely _ not.” 

There was a small hand clamped around his other wrist before he could do anything else, Kit’s short legs marching him away from the grass and onto the sidewalk before heading towards the SUV they’d come in. He could hear Spencer’s clumsy steps behind them, staying out of Kit’s way. Hotch tried one weak attempt at shaking her off, but she only held on tighter. 

“Try me right now, Hotchner,” she threatened before mumbling something under her breath that Hotch wouldn’t have understood if he’d heard her clearly. She tended to do that, and he’d never once wished he could understand her.

She pulled open the backseat to the SUV, and then the passenger seat. She let go of his wrist and pointed, tone direct. “Sit.”

Hotch sat.

“Reid?”

“Yeah?”

“Go away.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, watching as rejection crossed Reid’s face before he turned and started for the hill, obviously going to seek the comfort of his mentor, shoulders slumped.

Kit stepped in front of Hotch, holding out a small bottle of water and a small pink pill. He shook his head quickly.

“No.”

“No?” she asked, eyebrow raised and a challenge in her posture. “You’re going to tell me no right now?”

If it had been anyone else, he would have reprimanded them for speaking to him that way. He might have cited procedure. He might have benched her for the rest of the case. But he was a man of his word. And his ear hurt, and his eyes were streaming, and he was struggling to breathe, so he took the pill and the water bottle out of her hands. 

A small smirk crossed Kit’s face as she watched him swallow the pill. She was quiet then, shifting her weight as she waited for him to drain the water bottle. Once he did, she was shoving a tissue into his hands. “This is for your snot,” she said slowly, as if she was explaining it to a preschooler.

“I know what a tissue is,” he said evenly. She rolled her eyes at him. “Then why did I just watch a thirty four year old man wipe his nose with the back of his hand?”

He sighed, relenting and palming at his itching eyes with his free hand. He couldn’t see her while he was doing so, but he didn’t need to. Her eyes were assuredly boring into him, exasperated and searching.

She let the air between them sit for a few minutes before she crossed her arms over her chest. The wind had picked up a bit, and she’d lent JJ her cardigan.

“So are you always this much of a mess in autumn? Or is this not allergies?”

He shook his head, defeated. It was better to give up now that he’d gotten to take something. Maybe it would be fixed in twenty minutes, and there hadn’t been a reason to ice Kit out in the first place. “No. I take a prescription.” 

She groaned loudly. “That isn’t in your file!”

“It’s an inhaler,” he continued, “and I left it at home.”

A hand went up to tangle at the base of her braid as she clearly thought, eyes squinting and mouth tugging into a frown. “Okay. Strap in, I’m driving.” She held her hand out. “Keys.”

He wiped at his nose with the tissue in his hand, already knowing that he wasn’t ending the day without it being red and raw. “Keys?”

“So I can drive us back to the precinct? There was a couch in the back room that I saw earlier. When that pill hits, you’ll be out a few hours, and I can go pick it up.”

He shook his head around for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts. “Out for a few hours? Pick it up?”

“Mhm,” she said, swiping the keys to the SUV that he’d produced. “Our for a few hours, depending how you react to the allergy med I gave you. I gave one to Derek three weeks ago and he was  _ done _ for the day.”

“Pick  _ what _ up?” He said, ignoring the part where she’d said he would be knocked out by the medication she’d just given him.

Kit rolled her eyes like it was the dumbest question she’d ever been asked, starting the car and pulling her phone out of her pocket. She dialed and held it up to her ear, pulling out of the parking lot of the park as she did so.

“Hey, Hales.... No, everything is fine. How's the baby?” 

Hotch’s eyes widened. “Kit-”

“Shh, I’m on the phone,” she chided at him, pulling out into the street. “What? No, not you, Hotch… No, he’s fine, but hey? Do you have a copy of his inhaler script?” She glanced over at him. “I think so… No, it’s pretty bad. Yeah. Yeah, I did.” She glanced around them for landmarks, and Hotch rubbed once again at his ear. 

“The ear thing?”

“Kit!” he pleaded, but she shook her head at him, eyes glued to the road. “Yeah he’s doing the ear thing. Right. Okay, can you call it into the one on Rawlings and McClintock?”

Hotch watched as a wide smile broke across Kit’s face. “Perfect. Thanks, Hales. Yeah, I’ll have him call you. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll tell him. Okay, bye.”

She snapped her phone shut and took a breath before saying. “Haley is going to call in the replacement right now. She wants you to call her when we get to the precinct.”

Hotch didn’t quite know what to do, or say. He’d never been in a situation where someone was taking care of him that wasn’t Haley. He’d never been in a situation where he thought anyone  _ would _ care but Haley. 

“I, um,” he said quietly, coughing quietly and wheezing. “Thank you.”

Kit stopped at a red light, turning to face him, and giving him a small smile. “Of course, Hotch. That’s my job.”

They were quiet the rest of the drive, save for Hotch’s sniffling and occasional coughs. When they pulled up outside the precinct, Kit turned the car off, not moving for a second before smirking at him. 

“Is this like, an all the time thing? Am I going to have to start carrying an inhaler for you around in my backpack all the time?”

Hotch took a second to think about what she was saying. She would be willing to keep track of one more thing, even if he never needed it again. He was right to trust her, and as his eyes started to feel heavy, but definitely less itchy, he was glad he’d kept his word.

“No,” he said, a very small smile on his lips. “Just in autumn.”


	2. Cough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Cough  
> themetaphorgirl's Patron Saints AU

Alex couldn’t stand the coughing. All winter long it seemed like Hotch had a cough; wet, and deep, and  _ gross _ . It didn’t matter what she gave him, or how much Vicks she watched him rub on his chest and neck. 

Sometimes it let up, but it was never truly gone, and Mrs. Clark had made more than one concerned remark at the playground that usually circled back to “Why are you here?” and “Why isn’t your mother doing anything about that?” and “Why haven’t you been to the doctor?” To which Alex always answered for him, “I can’t drive” and “She is, it’s fine” and “He has, he’s good to go,” and while lying to Mrs. Clark always weighed on her conscience, they were  _ way too deep _ to change anything about their charade.

But she hated the coughing fits, and she hated the one-off coughing more.

The one-off coughing set them all on edge. Alex had figured out pretty quickly that when in combination with several other factors, the one-off coughing did not bode well for Hotch, for her, or for anyone in the vicinity. 

Because the one-off coughing, when in sets of three,  _ always _ meant that Hotch was sick, and that Hotch was  _ for sure _ going to throw up. Like, right then. 

She’d started counting them after it happened a second time, and with at least four instances under their belt, she was pretty sure she could handle it accordingly.

They were sitting in the library, with Spencer curled against Alex’s side on the couch, both of them reading out of the same book. Emily and Hotch were both staring at their math textbook, and Dave and James were on the other side of the table pouring over an English essay James had sworn was cruel and unusual punishment.

Penelope and Derek were flicking rubber bands back and forth while JJ kept score, the goal being to hit the other person in the forehead. Derek had complained that Penelope had an advantage, because her glasses would protect her eyes from any errant shots. 

The girls had vetoed his concern, and for once, things were relatively calm.

_ Cough _ . 

Alex’s head snapped up from her book, eyes locking on the back of Hotch’s head. She shifted slightly on the couch, untucking her legs.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer whispered, his eyes looking over to where her’s had settled. 

Alex sighed very quietly, shaking her head. “Nothing. At least, nothing yet.”

“Who coughed?” He asked, sitting up a little straighter, but his eyes were still searching in the big kids’ direction. 

“Hotch,” Alex said after taking a breath. 

Spencer sat up straighter. “But just one?” Alex hummed quietly. “Just one.”

They were quiet for a moment before Spencer relaxed slightly, pushing back against Alex’s side. “That’s not good,” he said simply, and all Alex could do was nod along with him.

“No, it is not.” She narrowed her eyes slightly as she watched Hotch shift in his chair and rub at his ear, as if it was bothering him. Like he did when he didn’t feel well.

It was almost half an hour before she heard it again. 

_ Cough. _

She sat up straight, Spencer whining when his head popped against the couch. 

“Ow, Alex,” he said, rubbing at the spot where the couch absolutely did not hurt him, his lips tugging into a pout.

Penelope, JJ, and Derek had moved on to folding paper fortune tellers, and James had given up his essay at least five minutes beforehand. 

“Shhh,” Alex said quietly, “Hold on, darling.”

Hotch was rubbing at his ear again, one arm crossed over the front of him as if he was cold. And it was cold, she’d give him that, but not enough to justify him curling in on himself like that? When she knew he had a sweater on under his hoodie?

Not quite.

_ Cough. _

"Two," she said under her breath, and Spencer’s eyes widened. “I’ll make Dave and Emily take me and Derek and Penelope to the Honeybean.”

Alex felt her eyebrows coming together, but she didn’t look down at him. Her eyes were locked on Hotch. “How are you going to do that?”

“Because I’m going to tell Emily it’s time for my four p.m. coffee.”

Alex glanced at the clock on the wall before saying quietly, “It’s almost seven.”

“I know,” he said, shimmying down the cushion and hopping to the floor. He flashed her a smirk. “It’s a code.”

Alex looked at him for a moment before she flashed him a very small smile, “Well, then, you better go quickly.”

He bounded over to Emily, tugging on her sleeve and whispering in her ear. Emily’s posture stiffened, flipping her notebook closed and looking at Dave with wide eyes. 

“Hey, let’s take a coffee time field trip.”

Dave closed his laptop, calling over to Penelope, Derek, and JJ.”

“Hey, lovebirds, I need some caffeine, who’s with me?”

All three of them looked up, and Alex watched as recognition flashed through their eyes. Penelope and Derek grabbed their things, but JJ stayed exactly where she was. 

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Hotch? James?”

Hotch shook his head quickly before he started to rub at his eyes, and Alex watched as Emily, Derek, Penelope, and Spencer followed Dave like baby ducks out of their section of the library with silent efficiency. 

She realized that they must have talked about it. Created a code that wouldn’t be suspicious, and would give her the space and people she needed to deal with a Hotch style , one-off cough breakdown.

_ Cough. _

Alex set her book on the couch and stood up, walking over to Hotch and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, come on.”

“Come on where?” he mumbled quietly, not looking up at her. His eyes were locked on the math book in front of him, but he wasn’t holding his pencil anymore. 

Alex sank down into Emily’s chair, knowing she didn’t have a lot of time. “You clearly don’t feel well. You’re doing that thing. Come on.”

“I’m not. This is due tomorrow, Alex, go away.”

She rolled her eyes, listening to the shifting of JJ behind her and feeling James’s eyes on her from the next seat over. He’d pulled his things off the table and was already packing up.

“Not a chance, Bubba.”

“I’m fi-”  She grabbed at his thin wrists and pulled him up out of his seat before he could finish. The color left in his face drained like a faucet, and he blinked hard before he took a shuddering breath.  “Um, Alex, I’m-”

“Going to throw up. I know. Come on.”

She walked quickly away from the table, pulling him behind her and calling, “Jayje!”

“I’ve got it!” The younger girl called, having already moved towards the table to pack up Hotch’s things while James went to grab Alex’s. It’s exactly what they’d done the last time. 

Alex pulled Hotch into her office with practiced ease, moving fluidly to shut the door and push him into her desk chair. 

“Alex!” Hotch said, his voice pitching with urgency.

“I know,” she said. She was forcing herself to stay calm. Stay even. Even though everything in his brain was screaming at her to leave the room and let him handle it.

Instead, she grabbed the trash can from beside her desk and set it in his lap, wincing when he threw up,  _ loudly _ , into the bin. A year prior, she probably would have thrown up herself. Hotch had to be the loudest puker she knew, and she always felt her own stomach flip in discomfort just being in the vicinity. 

But it wasn’t a year prior, and between both her “brothers’” having the constitution of wet paper, she would have been incredibly disenchanted to admit that it didn’t bother her as much as it used it. So, instead of leaving and having him just come get her when he was done, she stood behind him and gently rubbed her palm between his shoulder blades.

“You’re okay, Bubba. I’m right here.”

It was a few minutes before he’d calmed down enough to ask, “How did you know?” His face was still hanging over the trash can, knuckles white with his grip on the sides. 

Alex let out a quiet laugh, palm still rubbing in a steady rhythm. “You did the coughing thing,” she said quietly. “Not like you’ve been coughing since Halloween. The weird one-off coughing. If you do it three times too close together, you  _ always _ throw up. Especially when you rub at your ears and look like a ghost.”

He took a breath, clearing his throat before saying, “I didn’t know.”

“We’ve done this like, five times now.”

“I didn’t know I did that. I don’t-” he swallowed thickly. “I didn’t feel any different than I feel all the time.”

Alex thought about that for a moment before frowning and saying, “How do you feel now?”

“Really nauseous,” he said, and she nodded. “Well, when you’re ready, we’ll get you to bed.”

“My stuff-”

“Jayje got it. James has mine,” she assured him quickly. She pushed his bangs back from his forehead, not flinching at the fact that they were damp with sweat. Other people thought they were twins, she hadn’t realized how much they acted like it until they found themselves caught in positions like that one.

His eyes closed, and he took a steadier breath than before. “Okay… sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said quickly, “You’d do it for me.”

“In a heartbeat,” he mumbled. They’d done it for each other plenty of times as the year had gone one, and he knew they’d do it for each other plenty more.


	3. Blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Blankets  
> themetaphorgirl's Patron Saint AU

**_Hotch:_ ** _ u up? _

**_Alex:_ ** _ Did you just send me a “u up” text?  _

**_Hotch:_ ** _ what? _

**_Hotch:_ ** _ kids sick _

**_Hotch:_** _need backup_

**_Alex:_ ** _ I’ll be there in two minutes. _

Alex slowed as she neared the back door of Lincoln House, rubbing furiously at her sleep-laden eyes. It was two thirty in the morning, and she’d actually been in a really good REM cycle when her phone’s alert startled her awake. She’d thrown some shoes on and was down the stairs in forty seconds, sending Emily a text to pack her backpack and lay out her clothes as she jogged across the grass in her pajamas. 

JJ met her, rubbing at her own eyes and pushing the latch before mumbling, “Do you need me?”

Alex shook her head, moving past her and taking the stairs two at a time. “No, go back to sleep Jayje, we’ve got it,” she called over her shoulder, not stopping to hear if JJ had responded. She raced up the first five floors quickly, only slowing down when the exhaustion caught up with her, and she had to walk up the last two, hands pawing at her eyes and pinching her cheeks as she tried not to yawn. 

Her boys needed her - she didn’t have time to be tired. 

She knocked twice on Hotch’s door before pushing it open, head poking in first and sweeping the room. The bed was empty, the sheet and comforter pushed to the side, half off the bed, as if shoved away in a hurry. The bathroom light was on, but the door was only open a small crack. Still, she could hear Spencer’s quiet cries through the crack all the same. It sounded like he’d been crying a while, the small, hiccuping cries ones that she knew to come after the loud, wailing ones that signaled a real meltdown.

She took a breath, trying to right herself before she had to take over. Hotch wouldn’t have needed her help if Spencer was throwing up. Hotch always dealt with that, and Spencer didn’t want her around, anyway.

They both knew she was squeamish, they both knew she had to focus very internationally on not being sick herself when she dealt with either of them in that way. Spencer had once yelled at her over it, telling her to go away, to leave and leave them alone. He always wanted Hotch, so Hotch needing backup? It didn’t bode well.

She stepped to the door, pulling it open slowly and sighing before she could stop herself. Spencer was curled up against Hotch’s chest, body shaking with what she guessed were a combination of chills and dying sobs. Sobs that were going to open back up as soon as he saw her. 

Hotch was rubbing his back gently, humming in the way that she usually did to calm him down. While her humming was even and simple, Hotch’s was more melodic. She’d heard him sing to himself before, and she hadn’t had the chance to tell him he sounded pretty good. She only hoped that it was what was keeping Spencer grounded; having something to follow. Something to focus on.

The older boy looked up, nodding when he saw her. His face seemed to relax, but the tension that was always there when Spencer was sick remained. She wondered if that’s the look that she wore, too, and if so, if it would ever go away.

Doubtful.

“Hey,” she said quietly, lowering herself to the ground. The bathroom was small, but her legs were short, and she’d crossed them to make room for Hotch’s long gangly ones.

A small squeak came from Spencer as he sat up off of Hotch’s chest, turning towards her before recognition flashed in his eyes. He let out a louder squeak, but it was masked with a sob as he lunged at her, his breath catching as he started to cry.

“Alex!” He wailed, his face nuzzling into her neck and drenching her in hot tears. He smelled like vomit, as did the entire room, and she sent a very clear message to her entire body that it was to do exactly as she told it, and nothing else.

“I’m here. Oh, darling, I’m here. You’re okay. We’re okay,” she cooed quietly, one of her hands holding the back of his head while the other held tight to his back.

“I d-don’t feel good,” he rasped, his breath hitching over sobs. 

She looked over at Hotch, who had put his face in his hands and pulled his knees to his chest. She’d have to check in with him once she got Spencer to sleep.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m here. Hotch is here,” she looked around the small bathroom and felt her eyebrows pull together. “Wait, Bubba, where’s Blankie?”

That was very obviously the wrong thing to say. Spencer’s quiet sobs turned into loud, desperate wailing, his small frame shaking against her with force. Her eyes widened. Her grip on him tightened. “Woah, okay. Shh, you’re okay. It’s okay.” Her eyes darted to the older boy. “Bubba?”

“It’s in the bathtub,” he said from behind his hands. He sounded exhausted, and Alex felt a pang of guilt. She wondered how long he’d been handling Spencer, sick and alone, before he’d texted for help. 

Then his words registered. “Wait,” she said, “What do you mean it’s in the bathtub?”

“It’s in the bathtub. He puked on it, and me, and himself like an hour ago.”

She winced, sympathetic nausea burning at the back of her throat. “Oh god,” she said, “Okay, so you put it in the bathtub because?”

He sighed, pulling his face out of his hands then, looking at her with tired, bloodshot eyes. “Because, I had to grab me a shirt, and him a shirt, and so I did, but he threw up on the blanket again, and I just-” He groaned, hands tugging a bit in his hair before he shook his head. “I just didn’t know what to do with it. I couldn’t let him keep hanging onto it, it was  _ gross _ . And I was trying to make sure he didn’t puke anywhere else but here, so this is what I did.”

She thought for a moment before nodding. That made sense, though the idea of a very puked-on Blankie being thrown into the shower was a lot for her to think about without feeling like she was going to puke herself. “Okay. And the shirts?”

“Also in the shower.”

Spencer’s wailing hadn’t settled as they’d been talking, loud sobs cutting through the air as he cried his little heart out. It dawned on her that he’d probably started asking for her once Blankie wasn’t an option for him. Blankie was his comfort item, and without it, he was almost certain to be a mess.

When they washed Blankie, he knew it was coming. Having it taken away? Even if it was for a very good reason? On top of not feeling well? A recipe for disaster. 

He took his hands out of his hair, rubbing quickly at his right ear before saying, “Can you stay here? I’ll go throw them in the wash, and I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but-”

“But there’s no way he’s sleeping without it,” she finished for him easily, and he nodded.

“Yeah, and I figured you’d rather deal with the crying than, like, puke-drenched fabric.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, shaking her head quickly and pushing the very idea of it out of her head. “You’d be right.” Her voice went soft after that, directed towards Spencer.

“Baby, shh, honey I need you to be honest. Do you think you’re going to throw up again right now? It’s okay if yes.”

Spencer shook his head against her shoulder, but didn’t stop crying. If anything, his wailing seemed to grow harsher after she spoke. She was confused as to how she could have made it  _ worse _ before Hotch said quietly, “He promised he wouldn’t.”

“What?”

“He promised he wouldn’t throw up again if I got you. He was asking for you, and I told him I wasn’t sure,” he sighed, “you know, because of the puking thing. Which was dumb because-”

“Because I don’t care,” she said, a little fire in her voice. They’d had the conversation before.

Hotch looked guilty, pulling his hands to be grabbing around his knees. “Yeah, I know. I’m tired, okay? I have a headache, I wasn’t thinking straight.” He shook his head a little before continuing. “But he was hysterical, like he is now, and I didn’t have much of a choice.”

They were both quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room Spencer’s desperate cries. They’d lost a little bit of their heat, sounding more heartbroken than anything, and Alex was dreading the time it would take to wash and dry Blankie.

“Is it going to take more than an hour?” she asked finally, one of her hands moving to trail up and down Spencer’s back.

Hotch shrugged, rolling his eyes in frustration. “Maybe? I’ll use the better dryer, but even then, it might be a while.”

“You better go then,” she said. She watched as he stood up, pushing up the sleeves of his thin sweater before he grabbed the soiled shirts and blanket out of the bathtub. Alex winced as he crossed her with it, but he didn’t seem phased.

“I’ll be back after I put it in. I need to shower.”

“We’ll be here,” she said quietly, shuffling Spencer in her lap so that she could cradle him, letting his head rest under her chin, even though he continued to cry. 

Spencer had calmed down almost half way about forty minutes in, but had started right back up again once Hotch got out of the shower and Alex made the executive decision that Spencer needed to get in the bath. She’d quietly argued that he had vomit in his hair, to which he only seemed to wail louder, and by the time Hotch had helped her get him in, out, and changed, he was unreasonable again.

It took an extra half-a-turn through the dryer, but Hotch walked in with Blankie almost an hour and a half later. Alex audibly sighed in relief, reaching over where Spencer was in her lap to grab it from him. It was still warm, which would be helpful to stop the ridiculous chills wracking his little shoulders and spine. 

“Here, darling,” she said quietly, letting Hotch help her drape it over him and tuck it around his shoulders. “Here’s Blankie. Everything is okay now. I’m here. Hotch is here. Blankie is here. You’re safe.”

Spencer’s wailing cut out immediately. He hugged the blanket to his chest with force that he should not have possessed, one corner of it resting against his cheek. His body relaxed as much as it could, breath shuddering and catching, but starting to even slowly. 

Alex let out a breath she’d only half realized she was holding, thankful they’d already been able to move him so that they were on the bed. He fell asleep in minutes, eyes puffy and face pale, but flushed, and with tear tracks prominent. She moved him off her chest so that his head was resting in her lap, and her back was against the wall. 

Hotch sat next to her, his legs sticking out much further than hers did. He sighed, looking at Spencer and shaking his head.

“That isn’t healthy,” he said quietly.

“It’s been his lifeline since, well, September.”

“No, I know that. I know.” Hotch was quick to defend himself, but he didn't sound defensive. He sounded tired. 

“He won't need Blankie forever,” she said, “besides, this is the first time that’s happened. Hopefully it’ll be the last.”

Hotch sighed, palming at his eyes and nodding before looking down at Spencer with sad understanding. “Yeah, I hope so.”


	4. Headache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - Headache  
> SCRC AU

By the time she’d pawed at her eyes for the sixth time, actively displacing her left contact,  _ again _ , and making her want to scream, she was done for the day. 

It was only ten o’clock. 

It had been years since she’d had a headache that made her feel like she could drop dead, but in the fluorescent lights of the BAU bullpen, she was pretty close. There were plenty of reasons she could think of that would contribute to the splitting pressure sitting behind her eyes and wrapping around her temples. 

She hadn’t been sleeping. Not since she’d stared down the barrel of a gun three weeks before. To compensate, she’d been drinking an insane amount of caffeine, and not enough water to keep her anywhere near hydrated. She still pushed in the morning with Morgan, maybe harder than before. Her fitness exam was coming up, and she hadn’t wracked up enough field hours to have it deferred or covered. 

Plus, she was supposed to have her monthly review with Unit Chief Ramos at the end of the week, so she needed to review all of the files she’d worked on in the last thirty days, and the two health meetings they’d been able to squeeze in,  _ and _ the post takedown reviews. Including the one where she’d been nearly shot in the face.

_ I’m going to scream _ .

She pulled her backpack off the floor, grabbing in the first pocket for the small mirror she kept for emergencies. Like when her contact was threatening to blind her.

“Why don’t you just put your glasses on?” 

Her eyes flicked up, wincing when she felt her contact stab her, and she was met with Reid’s searching eyes. He was the only one that knew she wore glasses, and she was glad that everyone else had seemingly gone to lunch. Except, of course, Hotch, who never seemed to leave his office, ever, for any reason. 

“They snapped,” she said, annoyance dripping on her tongue despite her best efforts. “In Texas.”

“When your backpack got run over?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “When my backpack got run over.”

He thought for a moment before saying, “That’s the third time you’ve pulled out your mirror to fix your contacts after rubbing your eyes. You know, you should wash your hands before you touch your eyes or face. There’s an estimated-”

“No, Reid, stop.” She held up a hand to him, one hand rubbing harshly at her left temple. “I know how many germs are on my hands. I know the risk of eye infection. Please leave me alone.”

There was a moment of quiet before he tilted his head at her, tongue flicking over chapped lips before he asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she breathed, moving to fix her contact,  _ again _ . 

“Okay,” he said quietly. He turned back to his own file, though he was getting through his much faster than she was. His hands flicked over the pages as he read, and Kit felt envy for him she’d never felt before. 

It was almost twenty minutes, while Kit had her face in her hands, that Reid said, “Do you have a headache?”

She could have laughed if she wasn’t so miserable. “Yeah,” she said.

“Are you tired?”

“Yes, Reid.”

“Is the light hurting your eyes?”

She looked up at him, feeling more exhausted and annoyed by him with every moment that passed between them. “Yes, Reid. The light is hurting my eyes.” Her voice was far harsher than it should have been. She and Reid didn’t get along perfectly, but things had been better than at the beginning of her stay with the BAU. They rarely outright argued, they never really had, but she was ready to let him have it.

That was, until his voice got quiet, and small, and he sheepishly asked, “Did I win?”

Kit tilted her head at him, her eyebrows pulling together as she tried to restrain herself from rubbing at her eyes. “I dtigh diabhail, Reid,” She snapped, “Did you win  _ what _ ?”

“I’m Fine,” he said simply, not letting her annoyance phase him. The only thing she was getting from him was calm, which while she appreciated it, it also annoyed her. “That’s what you called it, right? When I was sick in New Jersey? I got three. That means I win.”

She shook her head quickly, immediately disliking the way it made the world swing around her. “That’s not how it works.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m pretty sure those were the rules. I have an eidetic memory.”

“I don’t-” She started before stopping herself. Reid had squared to her and had his arms crossed, a challenge brewing in his eyes. 

She wanted to fight with him. She hadn’t fought with someone in a while, and she was in the right mood to go absolutely nuclear, but she found herself deflating as she looked at him. Sheepish, submissive Spencer Reid was challenging her in her domain, and the only thing she could do was wince as her head throbbed extra hard. 

“What do you want from me, Spencer?”

He nodded at her, gesturing to the backpack in her lap. “Give me your backpack.”

“That’s not-”

“ _ Dakota _ ,” he said, gesturing again. 

She tossed it over to him, which he caught easily. He pulled it open, searching for only a few seconds before pulling out the bottle of ibuprofen and one of the little bottles of water she always kept. He didn’t give them to her, like she was expecting, but instead nodded towards her mirror. “Take your contacts out.”

“Everything is going to be blurry.”

“I know, but when I have a headache, the only thing I want to do is take my contacts out.”

She stared at him with squinted eyes before saying quietly. “I didn’t know you wore contacts.”

“Yes you did, it’s in my file,” he said. She shook her head again, slower than before, and mumbled, “I didn’t memorize every single part of every single file. There were seven of them.”

He simply nodded towards her mirror again, and she sighed before doing what he said.

She had so many things to do, and the stress wasn’t helping, but she’d lost. She’d made him follow her rules when they were in New Jersey, even though he didn’t want to, so even though she had a lot to do, it would be hypocritical to go against her own system. 

The world was instantly blurry when she took the contacts out, just like she’d told him, but she did feel a significant amount of pressure lessen from behind her eyes.

“Better?” He asked, and she nodded gently. “Yeah, a little.”

He nodded back to her, gesturing for her to follow him as he stood and started for the stairs. If her head had pounded less, she might have reminded him that she just took her contacts out, and it would take significantly more mental energy for her to climb the stairs without tripping and falling to her death. Instead she took them carefully, trying not to whine when her toe caught, and the jerk it caused her did  _ not _ help her situation in the slightest.

Spencer led her around to Hotch’s office, and her chest flooded with anxiety. “Wait, Spencer, no. I didn’t tell Hotch in Jersey, you can’t tell him now.”

He stopped short, turning and shaking his head at her. “Hotch is way different when we’re in the office. On a case, he’ll bench you. Here? He’s different. I’d thought you’d noticed that; you’ve been here a few months.”

“Noticed what?” She asked, not at all understanding what he was getting at. 

“Don’t you notice when people disappear during the day?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I assumed they went to meetings, or lunch, or to go ask Garcia a question. If I’m reading I don’t-”

“You don’t even notice, right. Well, trust me, you’ll want to know about this.”

He knocked on Hotch’s door, even though it was open like it always was.

“Yes?” Hotch said, and Reid poked his head into the office. “Are you busy?”

“No,” she heard Hotch say, and Reid took a step in the door, gesturing for Kit to follow. She swallowed down her anxiety, sure she was going to be scolded for letting a headache get in the way of her work. It took a second before she was willing to step into the office behind Reid, and when she looked at Hotch with squinted eyes, she saw his body language shift to that of concern.

“What’s going on?”

“Do you have a meeting today?” Reid asked, shifting his weight from side to side. Hotch shook his head, looking between them before saying, “No. Section Chief Strauss isn’t coming in until tomorrow. Why?”

“There’s a phone call for you in the conference room.”

Kit looked between the two men with bewilderment. There was most certainly  _ not _ a call for Hotch in the conference room. She didn’t even think there was a  _ phone _ in the conference room.

“What are you-” She started to say, but Hotch seemed to relax slightly as he nodded at Reid. 

“Ah. How long?”

“Maybe an hour?” Reid said, and Hotch nodded again. 

“Okay,” he said as he gathered the file in front of him, as well as two others that were sitting on the desk. “Come get me when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir,” Reid said simply, and Kit couldn’t have been more surprised when Hotch stepped around his desk and walked out of his office.

Reid moved with practiced ease, pulling the blinds closed and setting the water and the pill bottle on the table. 

Kit had to shake herself out of her focused trance to say, “Wait, wait, what are you doing?”

He turned to her and looked like it was the most idiotic question he’d ever encountered. “I’m shutting the blinds.”

“ _ Why _ ?”

“Because,” he said, turning back to finish the job. “When they’re open people can see inside, and also, the fluorescent lights still come through.”

She looked around for a moment, everything blurry and her head pounding, and she said quietly. “Spencer, stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop for a second. What are we doing in here? Why did Hotch leave? Why are you shutting all the blinds, and why did you lie to Hotch about a phone call?”

All the questions tumbled out of her, and he froze in place for a moment before he faced her again. “Oh. It’s a code. I told Hotch he had a phone call so he would know to go work in the conference room.”

“But  _ why _ ?”

His eyebrows pulled together for a second before he let out a quiet chuckle. “So you can take a nap.”

She stared at him for a moment before it all clicked together. “Wait, that’s where you all go during the day?”

He shook his head quickly. “Not all the time, and not all of us. Mostly Elle and I, and sometimes JJ, but she has her own office. But her office doesn’t have a couch.” 

Kit was amazed. “So, you developed a code so that you can come take a nap? On Hotch’s couch? And he just let it happen?”

Reid shook his head again, his smile pushing wider. “No,” he said simply, “Hotch developed a code so that we could come take a nap on his couch.” He stalked towards the door satisfied with the blinds and when he looked at her again his eyes were sympathetic. “There’s a pillow and a blanket in the side table. The top opens up. I’ll come get you in an hour.”

Without another word he slipped out the door frame, leaving her alone in the office. The bottle of ibuprofen and the water sat on Hotch’s desk, and for the first time that day, she felt herself relax. There was a contingency plan. Hotch had a plan for his team when they needed a break, and as a healthcare provider, she’d never felt more sure that a team leader cared about his team.

She turned to shut the door, but found herself calling out the door, “Spencer?”

He was almost down the stairs, and turned to look back up at her, “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said, her breath catching as she felt tears pool in her eyes. She desperately needed a nap, and she was suddenly very touched that Reid had even noticed something was wrong. 

He shrugged simply and nodded. “Of course, Dakota. Have a nice nap.”

She heard a chuckle come from her chest, and she nodded at him before turning back inside and flipping off the light.


	5. Couch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - Couch  
> SCRC AU  
> Continuation of day 4

Kit was jarred a bit as someone shook at her shoulder. She didn’t open her eyes, and she winced as her head throbbed near her temples. What time was it? What was going on? Someone was saying her name. Was it Monty? Monty was never awake before she was.

“Dakota?”

_ Reid _ .

But why was Spencer Reid in her apartment? 

Her eyes snapped open, and she closed them again as pain shot behind her eyes. “Shit,” she mumbled, palming at them both and swinging up to sit at the edge of her bed.

But it wasn’t her bed. One hand connected with faux leather and she pried her eyes open again, waiting for the blur to clear at least some of the way.

“Sorry, it’s been an hour and four minutes, and I didn’t know if I should wake you because you were sleeping really deeply, but I told you an hour and I didn’t want to lie and have you caught off guard.”

Where was she? Why was Reid waking her up, and rambling, and why did her head hurt? It was like she was  _ more _ tired after her nap.

Her eyes scanned slowly, and it all started to flood back.

_ Hotch’s office. That’s right. I took a nap on the couch. _

She groaned quietly, shaking her head and mumbling, “Right. Thanks,” before she felt her leg start to bounce. She had kept Hotch from being able to work in his office so that she could take a nap, wake up, and be more productive. She didn’t know how that was going to work, though, when she quite possibly felt worse than she had before. 

Spencer didn’t move from where he was standing, but he shifted his weight as he looked down at her. “I, um. I-”

“Can you go get Hotch?” She heard herself say, her other hand coming down to grip at the edge of the couch on the other side of her knees. She shut her eyes, willing the brightness of the light leaking through the open door to go away.

Thankfully Reid closed the door when he stepped out, and she let out the breath she hadn’t quite realized she’d been holding onto so tightly.

* * *

Hotch was certain he’d never seen Reid move so quickly around the office unless there was sugar involved. The kid had a problem, but while he’d tried to remove the pourable sugar container from the breakroom, Reid had brought his own the next day and left it in his desk drawer.

He wrapped twice on the conference room door before opening it, his head poking in with concern on his face.

“Sorry, sir, are you busy?”

Hotch shook his head, watching Reid with a passive expression. They had a rule that they didn’t profile one another, but he'd never been very good at following that rule when it came to his team's youngest member.

"No, come in."

Reid nodded and stepped through the door, shutting it behind him. He twisted his hands in front of him for a few seconds, not saying a word.

"Reid?"

"Yes, sir?"

"What do you need?" He said it more gently than he'd been speaking before. He knew that Reid needed a gentler touch than the others, and while he treated him exactly like the others in the field, it was easier to be lenient with him, and the rest of the team for that matter, when they had days around the office.

Reid rocked his weight. “Dakota asked me to come get you.”

Hotch nodded, his eyes glancing towards the direction of the bullpen. “Is she done in my office?”

“No, sir. She’s sitting on your couch. I think she has a migraine, but I don’t know if I’m the one to push the issue.” Reid was clearly concerned, but Hotch knew he was right. Reid and Kit didn’t have the sort of relationship that warranted open communication. It was that fact that had made their appearance in his office an hour prior confusing, though Reid had told him what had happened after he’d left Kit alone. 

JJ was actually the first one to take a nap in his office. It had been a hard case, and he’d found her crying her eyes out in her own office while sitting on the floor behind her desk. He'd moved his things into the conference room for a few hours, and after a few hours, she'd come from his office looking like a new person. A bit of the light had replaced itself in her eyes, and he'd been satisfied enough with his choice that he'd started to quietly offer the couch to others when he thought he needed it.

Reid, he'd discovered, had the immune system of a sickly, seven year old child. The young man either asked, or was forced, to take a nap in Hotch’s office on an average of three times a month. He’d been surprised at first that Reid didn’t ever ask Gideon to use  _ his _ couch, but he hadn’t given it a lot of thought. Maybe he had. Maybe Gideon had said no.

Elle didn’t sleep well at night, she’d once confessed to him, though her usage of the couch was less frequent than either JJ or Reid. Morgan didn’t use the couch, and for some reason, Hotch was fairly certain Garcia had taken more than one nap on her “batcave” floor. She’d only used his couch once, and they had been away on a case when she’d called him to ask.

Now that the code and the opportunity was open to Kit, Hotch wondered how often she would use it, if at all. He hoped it would make her feel more accepted if she was in on the secret everyone else seemed to know. She’d confessed to him on several occasions that she didn’t feel like a part of the team, and had assured him that she was okay with it. That she “wasn’t a real member of the team anyway.” He'd pointed out that she was a liaison, just like JJ was, but Kit had waved him off with a sad sort of smile.

"It's different," she'd said. 

He had resolved to not let that be the end of their conversation.

"Did she say why she asked you to come get me?"

Reid shook his head quickly, anxious energy manifesting in his fidgeting fingers and rocking weight. "No, sir."

“Alright,” he sighed, getting up from his chair and grabbing his files. “I’ll take care of it. Thank you, Reid.”

“Of course, sir,” he said before nodding a few times and disappearing out the conference room door. 

Hotch waited for a moment before he stepped out of the conference room and across the walkway to his office. He hung for a moment outside of his office door before knocking in three even wraps. He didn’t get a response, so he slowly opened the door.

Kit was sitting cross-legged on the couch with her face in her hands. Her shoes were on the floor, which he thought was odd, and he shut the door before he moved to where she was sitting in three long strides.

“Colghain,” he said quietly, sitting in the chair he’d stepped in front of, “What’s going on?”

She took a loud breath before looking up at him with half opened eyes. “I, um. I can’t go back out there,” she said quietly. 

He thought for a moment before nodding. “Because of the lights.”

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly. “But I can’t be in the way of you working in your office. That’s incredibly unprofessional.”

Hotch looked at her for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t mind working in the conference room, however, I think you would be of better use to yourself, and our team, if you went home and got some sleep. Real sleep.”

She shook her head at a snail's pace. “I can’t.”

“You can,” he said, “I’m giving you permission.”

“No, I can’t. I don’t have a car. Ari brings it to work, and Monty brings it home. But I can’t drive anyway. I, um, took out my contacts.” He hadn’t known she wore contacts. “And I can’t take the metro. I don’t even know if I could handle the sun, let alone walking to the station.”

Hotch weighed his options. Keep Kit in his office for the rest of the day while she had a migraine, and work in the conference room. Possible, but not preferred. 

Send Kit home to brave the sun, and the metro, both of which could be detrimental to her current condition. A hard no.

Send Kit down to the clinic and make her wait until her sister came into work at five, worked her entire shift until one in the morning, and then could drive her home. Also not an option he wanted to entertain.

“Put your shoes on,” he found himself saying. “I’ll grab your backpack and drive you home.”

Her eyes widened to be fully open, though she winced, and she shook her head quickly. “Oh, no, sir. That’s okay. I’ll go sit in the bullpen, it’s-”

“It’s not fine. Don’t make me make it an order.”

“But, sir-”

He put a hand up to stop her. “Kit. You can’t tell me you would rather spend the rest of the day laying in this office on my couch.”

He could see the war she was waging with herself, and knew he’d won when she squeezed her eyes shut and pulled a hand off the couch to rub at the bridge of her nose.

“Just your backpack?”

“Just my backpack,” she said quietly. “Thanks.”

He nodded, though she wasn’t looking. “Not a problem. I’d do anything for any member of my team.”

She let out a very quiet laugh, face still screwed in pain, before she said, “Like letting them sleep on your office couch?”

He risked a smile as he nodded again. “Yes. Like letting them sleep on my office couch,” he said, grabbing his keys and wallet off of his desk before making his way towards the door.


	6. Overheated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - Overheated  
> SCRC AU

Kit didn’t know if she’d ever sweat so much in her life, including her very first Physical Fitness Test. Which was saying a lot, because her first PFT had absolutely kicked her ass. 

“Íosa Críost,” she mumbled under her breath, pulling at the front of her shirt. She pushed her braids behind her shoulders and away from her neck, wishing she had a thick enough hair tie to take them out and tie her hair in a knot at the top of her head, like Monty did.

She was standing away from the crime scene, where they’d been for at least an hour, standing in the sun. In July. In Lake Havasu City, Arizona. Where it was actively one hundred ten degrees.

Easily the hottest place she’d ever been.

The team had slowly been shedding clothing as the day had gone on, but since they’d been standing there on the concrete, the period of time between articles of clothing being discarded had started to grow shorter and shorter.

JJ, Elle, and Kit were all in the tank tops they wore under their blouses, which Kit was actively tugging on, wishing hers wasn’t black. JJ and Elle, who normally wore their hair down, had pulled it up and away long ago. 

Gideon had unbuttoned his dress shirt, and Morgan had taken his off, leaving him in jeans and his undershirt. Reid hadn’t gone as far as the others, but the sweater vest he was previously wearing was sitting in the back of the SUV with the rest of their discarded clothing. He’d claimed that Vegas, while not as hot as Havasu was, had prepared him pretty well for dealing with the sun. Kit was too hot and tired to argue with him.

Only Hotch was still wearing every piece of the outfit he’d entered the plane in, suit jacket included. How he wasn’t melting where he stood had been a quiet conversation between Kit, Morgan, Elle, and JJ all morning, and at some point, Elle had thrown out the idea that Hotch must actually be a robot. They’d nodded and agreed, all too hot to think of something else.

“Come drink some of this,” Kit called over to the rest of the team, pulling mostly-warm water bottles out of her bag. She’d been able to convince Hotch to let her and JJ take the SUV to a convenience store to grab some water bottles and some gatorade, plus some quick snacks for Kit to replenish her backpack. Between long hours and picky eaters -  _ picky eaters named Derek and Spencer  _ \- she had run out that morning on the jet. They’d gotten a much needed reprieve from the heat, blasting the air conditioner the whole time, but as soon as it felt that it had cooled down inside the car, they were back in the heat.

The  _ unrelenting _ heat.

The rest of the team trickled over, sweat beading on upper lips and foreheads; dripping down temples and staining collars and underarms. They pulled faces at the tepid water, but drank it in large gulps. It was like they’d never had a drink before, and Kit drank her own water with just as much fervor. 

She looked around and counted when she stopped drinking to take a breath, raising an eyebrow as she came up short.

“Four, five- Where’s Hotch?”

“He’s still talking to the sheriff,” Morgan said, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “They’re wondering if the unsub was trying to use the heat as a forensic countermeasure.”

Elle scoffed, tugging gently at the hem of her shirt, as if she was dying to rip it off. “They probably didn’t think anyone would find the body. What idiot would be out of their house in this heat long enough to find a body?”

“Gretta Harrison,” Reid said easily, pulling the name of the older woman that discovered the body that morning. 

“She was picking up a prescription,” Kit added easily. “Depending on what it’s for, some people would go out in any weather for one of those.”

“You?” JJ asked, and Kit blinked at her for a second. “What?”

“Would you? Like, if you had an important prescription to get.”

Kit blinked at her for a moment. She’d kept everything so quiet. She didn’t think that anyone knew. “If it drastically affected the quality of my life? Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“I think so, too,” she said, leaning against the hot SUV and taking another sip from her water. There were several other nods of agreement, water sipped a little less desperately as it started to rehydrate them. Kit took a deep breath. 

_ Not a pointed question. Get it together, Kody. _

“Alright,” Gideon said, “Back to work.” He gave Reid a pointed look, and Reid nodded, the two walking off quickly. Morgan rolled his eyes but followed them, Elle on his heels.

JJ sighed, wiping at her forehead before looking over as the sound of tires on gravel rolled behind them. She closed her eyes and tried not to groan. “Please. Please tell me that isn’t a news van.”

Kit shrugged, taking another sip of her water before saying calmly. “Okay. I won’t tell you.” She gave JJ a guilty sort of smile before nodding in the direction just behind her. “But, there is a man walking towards us, so if you were going to throw your blouse back on, I’d do it now.”

“Damn it,” she mumbled, turning around and grabbing for her shirt before also picking up a water bottle. She tossed it to Kit, who caught it easily before she said, “You should see if you can get some water in Hotch. He’s still in his coat.”

Kit tried not to roll her eyes. “I tried when we got back, but I’ll try again.”

She started her trek over to where Hotch was standing, looking to be deep in through. She tossed a granola bar to Morgan and a package of Goldfish crackers at Reid on her way, earning a wave and a happy “thank you!” from both as she went. It hadn’t taken long for her to learn their rhythms, and she knew that those two were the most likely to need food by that point. The rest could wait.

Hotch didn’t look great when she walked up. Not that he was showing anything but calm ease, as always, but Kit could tell something was off. She could always tell, and as time had gone on, it was easy for her to see when there was something wrong with their fearless leader. Haley liked to joke that Hotch had a very specific wall built up, and only certain people could see through the microscopic cracks. It had become apparent that Kit was one of those people pretty quickly, and Haley had asked to exchange phone numbers as soon as they’d met.

But something was definitely wrong. She was tentative as she approached him, worried when he didn’t acknowledge her immediately. 

“Hotch?” She asked quietly, touching his arm and watching as he visibly jumped. “Woah, okay, it’s just me.”

He shook his head and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I was thinking.”

“I could see that,” Kit said cautiously. She held the water out to him. “Here. I haven’t seen you drink any water since we got here.”

“I don’t need that, thanks,” he said, glancing back at the crime scene. “I should be with the sheriff. I just…” He trailed off, and Kit started to work. She looked over what she could see first before trying to ask any questions. Hotch was evasive on his best days.

He was sweaty, to put it lightly. There were beads of sweat along his hairline, his temples, and trailing down his neck. She didn’t miss the slight tremble in his hands, or the way he was blinking slowly, as if trying to ground himself. 

She reached out and grabbed his hand, cool and clammy, before she gave him a hard look. “Are you joking? Come on.”

“Colghain-”

“Don’t Colghain me,  _ Hotchner _ . You’ve gotta be halfway to heatstroke.” He tried to shake her off, but his attempts were lethargic at best. “I’m fine.”

“We can play the game,” she said seriously, not even close to backing down, “or you can come quietly, and it doesn’t have to be a big thing in front of all these people.”

Hotch looked at her for a moment before there was a visible crack in his resolve. He gave her a miniscule nod, and she acted, tugging at his wrist in order to get him to move with her over to the SUV.

“Get in the car,” she said, nodding to the backseat. He raised an eyebrow at her, stopping short. His strides had been shorter and choppier than they normally were, and it was only causing her more worry. “I’m not leaving.”

She shook her head. “We’re not, but I want to turn it on and get some AC on you. Also, the jacket.”

“What about my jacket?” He asked, but his words had a little more float to them than she had heard before, and it made her heart rate pick up. 

“Take it off,” she said seriously. There was no room for debate in her voice

“Kit-”

“Aaron.”

Their eyes locked, and it took a moment before he narrowed his, moving to pull his jacket off. Kit could have gasped when she saw the way his entire back was sticky and soaked with sweat, but she didn’t make a comment. She was sure he knew exactly what was going on, and she didn’t need to compound on his discomfort by being outwardly worried.

“Get in the van.”

“Get in the van? Really?”

“Are you making a joke?” she asked. “You must be delirious.”

Kit opened the door for him to get in, which he did without complaint. That only served to worry her more. She worked quickly to turn on the AC in the SUV on as high as it could go, turning the temperature dial until the biggest blue section was pumping through the van.

She slid into the backseat on the opposite side, shutting the door behind her, and when she turned to face him she felt her eyebrows hit her hairline.

Hotch was sitting with his face in his hands, tie noticeably loosened, taking deep, even breaths. She shook her head slightly, leaning over to loosen the tie the rest of the way and pull it from his neck. 

“Talk to me, Hotch.”

“Hot,” he said simply, though there was an obvious shake in his voice now that they were in the privacy of the van. She nodded, though he wasn’t looking at her, and started going down the list.

“Hot. Okay. Do you feel like you’re going to pass out?”

“Not really.”

_ Absolutely not encouraging in the slightest. _

“Not really?”

He didn’t look up at her, but she noticeably shifted in the seat, as if his sweat-drenched shirt was bothering him. It was bothering her, and she wasn’t even wearing it. “Sort of,” he said to clarify, in a way that did not clarify it at all.

“Sort of. Okay. Nauseous?”

“More than sort of,” he relented before adding, ”Thirsty.”

Kit nodded, grabbing for her backpack and pulling a lukewarm, orange gatorade from the pocket. “I can fix that last one. I can definitely fix that. You’re dehydrated, Hotch. You can’t just-” She cut herself off as he let out a shuddering sign, swallowing her words. She was starting to get heated, which wasn’t going to help. If anything, she’d learned that she had to be soft with Hotch, despite his outward callousness.

She took a breath. “You can’t just expect us to all take care of ourselves if you won’t do it first. You’re our leader, we follow your example.” She cracked open the orange gatorade and held it out to him. “Here. Please drink this so I don’t have to drive your unconscious body back to the precinct. Or the hospital.”

He took a breath before taking his face from his palms. He raised an eyebrow weakly at her before saying quietly. “I don’t like that one.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I don’t like that one,” he said again, but took it from her with shaky hands. “I only drink the yellow one.” 

Kit found herself laughing and shaking her head. For someone known for being stoic and emotionless, Hotch had an incredible, if not dry, sense of humor. “The yellow one is gross.”

“You’ve wounded me,” he said quietly, taking a small sip from the gatorade before sighing and taking a larger one. He took a few more before he said, “You’re right.”

“Yeah,” she said, watching his liquid intake with rapt attention. “It’s my job.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head lightly. “When you said that the others follow my example. I need to be better at taking care of myself if I expect any of them to do it for themselves.”

She thought for a second before she smirked at him. He was being genuine, and she could feel the waves of acceptance washing through the SUV at his admission. “Yeah, I’m pretty smart,” she quipped, and he laughed before taking another sip from the very orange gatorade in his hand.


	7. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - Break  
> themeatphorgirl's Patron Saint AU

James Blake would confidently say he could handle most situations.

This was not most situations.

He ran a hand down his face, very much done with the day even though it was barely three in the afternoon, and spoke without opening his eyes. “Al, I swear to god, if you don’t sit down I’m going to make you sit down.”

“I told you, James-”

“And I told you, Alex. Last I checked, Spencer wasn’t the only one that looked like they were going to keel over at any moment.”

Alex was sitting on the floor against the wall, one hand rubbing furiously at her eyes while the other was latched around her middle. “But Spencer-”

“Is fine,” James interrupted again, gesturing to where JJ was sitting on the bed with Spencer laying in between her legs, his head on her stomach while she gently ran her fingers through his hair. Just like she’d watched Alex do. “You on the other hand need to take a break. Whatever virus you three picked up at the playground can only work itself out of your system if you  _ slow down _ .”

He gestured over to where Hotch was sleeping, quite literally slumped against Alex’s side. He was pale, and trembling slightly, and he had been fighting with James until he fell asleep mid point, stumbling and slurring through a sentence that was half formed and made no sense. 

Alex glared up at him with glassy eyes, but he could see her resolve crumbling. She growled quietly before shaking her head. “I’m okay, Jamie, he needs me.”

“He needs you to kick this so you can help  _ him _ kick it, but that’ll only work if you slow down for a second. Look at Hotchner, he literally worked himself up so bad he passed out.”

Alex rolled her eyes, glancing at Hotch before mumbling, “That’s not what it’s like when he passes out.”

“What?”

“Nothing, James, I told you, I’m okay, I just- I  _ need _ to stay with Spencer.”

“And I’m telling you that I need you to go take care of you and Hotch. JJ and I can worry about Spencer for a few hours.”

“No,” Alex huffed, pulling her other arm around her chest and squinting up at him with a challenge in her fever bright eyes. 

James sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck and trying to think of a way to get Alex to back down. He looked between Alex and Hotch, the “Wonder Twins” as Emily liked to call them, and an idea started to form. But she was stubborn, the most stubborn person he knew, and he didn’t know if he was going to be able to pull it off.

“Wake up Hotch.”

“Huh?” She asked, blinking at his sudden shift. James sat down on the floor across from her. “Wake up Hotch.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why? He’s sick.”

“He is?” James said, feigning surprise. “I don’t know, he looks okay to me. Better than you do. Wake him up.”

Alex clearly was unsure of what James was playing at, but he watched her brain try to focus on it before she shook her head, shaking gently at Hotch’s shoulder. “Bubba, wake up.”

“Hmm?” Hotch hummed, eyebrows furrowing as a shudder ran up his spine. James sighed unhappily as he started to pay closer attention, noting the flush across both their cheeks.

“Wake up,” she said again, giving him another shake.

He started to sit up. “I’m awake,” he mumbled, before turning and coughing sharply into the elbow of his hoodie. Alex turned on James. “See, Jamie? I told you. Why did you have me wake him up?”

“Is Spencer okay?” Hotch asked, not quite latching onto their conversation, but with his eyes locked on Spencer and JJ. “Does he need me?”

“No,” James said quickly, “He’s okay. I just need a favor.”

Hotch took a moment before blinking up at James slowly, emotion very clear on his face. Hotch kept his feelings bottled up tight, but James and Alex had seen with time that if he had a fever, it was all over.

“What favor?”

“I just want to take your temperature,” James said gently, and Hotch looked between the two seniors before nodding. “Okay.”

James stood up and walked the length of the room, picking the thermometer off the bedside table before shooting a nervous look at JJ. She shrugged, giving him a lackluster thumbs up, and he let out his breath with a humorless chuckle.

He settled himself back on the ground across from Alex, nodding at Hotch before reaching forward and sticking the sensor in his ear. He pulled it back a few seconds later when it beeped, and turned it so Alex could see it. 

_ 101.2 _

She frowned, immediately grabbing for Hotch and trailing her fingers at the nape of his neck. “I didn’t think you felt that warm, Bub,” she mumbled, and Hotch sighed before nuzzling his face into Alex’s shoulder.

She rounded on James. “So what did that prove? That I was right?”

“No,” James said. “That you’re wrong. Turn your head.”

She furrowed her brow at him, looking down at Hotch before looking back up and saying, “Why would I do that?”

“So I can take yours. You said you’re okay, right? So it should be a perfect 98.6, and you can go sit with Spencer.”

They were at a stalemate, Alex’s glassy, unfocused eyes meeting James’s calm, still ones. It was almost an entire minute before she nodded. “Fine.”

“Fine,” James said back, gesturing towards her ear. She swallowed and turned her head for him to place the sensor. When it beeped, he glanced at it before humming, turning the screen to show her.

_ 101.1 _

“Shit,” she breathed, “I… I didn’t think-”

“I know,” James said quietly, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder and rubbing his thumb across her too-warm skin. “Hey, JJ?”

“Yeah,” she called quietly, eyes coming up from Spencer’s face to lock on James.

“I’m going to go put these two somewhere they’ll actually rest. You guys good?”

JJ nodded, looking back down at Spencer as she raked her dainty fingers through his bangs. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Okay,” James said, rising to his feet, “Good. Come on, you two.”

He helped pull Alex to her feet, then Hotch. Both looked small and frazzled - Hotch from being awoken, and Alex from the discovery that she was  _ not  _ okay like she anticipated. He sighed, walking over to the closet and pulling Hotch’s spare blanket down before turning towards the bed to find another. 

“Don’t bother,” JJ said, “They’re going to do that thing they always do, where Alex is asleep on the arm rest, and Hotch has his face in her belly.”

James sighed, but nodded. He hated the word belly. “Right,” he mumbled, “Right. I’ll be right back.”

Surprisingly, Alex and Hotch quietly followed without a fight. Hotch seemed to be concerned with not crying, his eyes flooding with unshed tears when he stole a glance back at Spencer. Alex was staring down at her feet with one hand protectively gripped around Hotch’s forearm, as if she was afraid he was going to drop to the ground at any second.

He got them into the common room, laughing quietly when Alex sat down on the couch first, swinging her legs up and letting Hotch curl into her side with his head on her stomach. James draped the blanket over the two of them, shaking his head, but smiling.

“You two are going to run yourselves into the ground, you know that?”

Alex shook her head slowly, a hand already carting through Hotch’s bangs. “No we’re not.”

“What do you call this?” James asked, gesturing vaguely to their prone forms. Alex shrugged. “Collateral damage?” she offered, but James just frowned, fidgeting with the blanket he’d daped over them.

Alex reached out a hand, letting her fingers wrap around James’s wrist gently. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

James looked at her, eyes softening. “For what?”

“For taking care of us when we won’t take care of ourselves. We get so distracted with Spencer. He’s our whole world.”

James chuckled, pulling his wrist out of her grasp and instead squeezing her hand. “I know.”

“We’re teen parents.”

“I know,” he said again, “but parents take breaks too.”

She stared at him for a moment before she nodded, squeezing his hand with finality before she said, “You’ll come get me if he’s crying for me, right? If he wants either of us, I want you to come get us. No exceptions.”

“No exceptions,” he assured, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb before pulling away and straightening up. “Get some sleep, Al.”

He watched as she nodded gently, closing her eyes and visibly relaxing, before he left them to rest.


	8. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - Hospital  
> SCRC AU

Both women were clad in sweatpants and hoodies, JJ’s hair in a loose ponytail while Kit’s braids were falling out.

JJ was the only one she’d called.

The blonde dropped into the chair next to her, taking her hand and squeezing gently. The worry could have been coming from anywhere, they were in a hospital, but it surged when JJ took a breath.

“What happened?”

What happened? Kit wasn’t entirely sure. Reid had been off work a few days. Actually, she’d kicked him out of the bullpen that Monday when he was coughing so aggressively she swore he was going to crack a rib if he didn’t go home and lay down. It had sounded wet and congested and  _ gross _ , but she assumed he’d picked up whatever cold was making its way around. He’d be fine if he just got some sleep like a normal person, and he’d be back by Wednesday. Gideon had even driven him home. 

Then Hotch had told them Reid was out sick again on Thursday, which was concerning, but not enough for her to be overly worried. Some people caught things worse than other people. He was probably taking an extra day to be completely back to normal before facing them all again. He already got so much flack for being the youngest; the baby. She’d thought he was just avoiding being coddled when he didn’t need it.

At least that’s what she’d thought until he was calling her at one-thirty in the morning, his breaths coming in gasps and wheezes as he asked for her help through what sounded like strangled sobs. She’d scrambled from her bed and basically grabbed the keys out of Monty’s hands as she walked through the door, shoving her glasses on her face and babbling something half-intelligible about an emergency.

It had taken her exactly three minutes to get to Spencer’s apartment in the dead of night, which was weird, because she hadn’t known that he lived anywhere near her. It took three more minutes for her to decide he needed more medical intervention than she could give him in his apartment. He was shaking and wheezing and coughing disgusting colored phlegm into the sleeve of his hoodie, skin on fire with eyes panicked and bright.

It took six minutes to get him down to the car, and another twelve to drive to the hospital closest to them. She’d walked him into the ER she’d worked in for a year and a half before the academy, no idea who was the Head, and no idea what to do except flash her badge and relay as much information as she possibly could to the nurse behind the desk.

They’d taken him away as soon as they saw that Kit was supporting most of his weight, his gasping and coughing causing the nurses to move with an urgency Kit almost missed. She just wished it wasn’t due to the fact that Reid,  _ Spencer _ , was struggling to breath.

She’d found a corner to cry her eyes out in as soon as they’d taken him away from her.

“They, um. He’s in a room. They took him away from me and wouldn’t let me go with,” she said slowly, not really answering JJ’s question. “They wouldn’t let me go with.”

“But what happened? To Spence?”

Kit told her as well as she could, mind moving at seven hundred miles an hour. Things were fuzzy as she remembered them. Spencer’s breathing. Monty calling after her. His hands gripping hers so tight it was painful as she drove through the deserted streets of the district towards the hospital she knew so well.

JJ didn’t let go of as she spoke, running her thumb along the back of Kit’s hand. “You did everything you could,” she said quietly. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“I…” She shook her head, starting to ramble as she processed. “I sent him home Monday, remember? He was supposed to be back Wednesday and then he wasn’t. He wasn’t back today, yesterday? It’s Friday now I think, but it’s still today. It’s still Thursday and he didn’t come to work and I thought, maybe he was just waiting. But then he called me and he was struggling to breathe and I did what I could.” 

She looked up at JJ’s eyes, her own pooling with tears like they had before. “I did everything I could, but he was in respiratory distress. It’s the middle of the night. I don’t have supplies like that in my backpack. I couldn’t help him.”

“You did,” she assured, squeezing Kit’s hand again. “You got to his apartment and you got him here.”

“I should have checked on him today. During the day. On my way home.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I should have done something else. You’re my responsibility. All of you.”

JJ shook her head, moving so that both her hands were holding Kit’s. “Don’t do that. No one else checked on him either. This is on all of us.”

“No, it’s on me.”

“Kit-”

“Spencer Reid?” 

A voice called out from the doorway of the waiting room. An older nurse was standing there, giving the two girls a kind, sympathetic smile. They were the only two there, so the nurse must have known they were the ones there for Reid, but Kit appreciated the professionalism. Something concrete in a time where nothing felt like it was making a lot of sense.

“Yes,” Kit said quickly, swiping her tears away under her glasses and taking a deep breath as she stood. JJ stood as well. “Is he okay?”

“Are either of you immediate family?”

Both girls stood still for a moment before they both shook their heads. “I’m JJ, and this is Kit. We’re-,” JJ said before Kit said quickly. “We work in the same department at the FBI headquarters. I’m the one that brought him.”

The nurse nodded before starting into her spiel. The one Kit had given plenty of times before. “Mr. Reid has moderate bacterial pneumonia. He’s being given oxygen and intravenous fluids and medication to work on the dehydration and the fever. Once his sputum test comes back, we will be able to start him on a regiment of antibiotics.”

“He’s allergic to carbenicillin,” Kit said quickly, a hand drumming against the fabric of her sweats. The nurse smiled at her kindly. “We caught that on his file, yes. It was recently updated.”

Kit nodded quickly. “I did that a few months ago.”

“It was thorough,” the woman said, never losing her calm, kind front. “Now, I’m sure you’re glad to know that your friend is okay, but I am sorry to tell you that visiting hours don’t start again until ten. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you then, if he’s awake.”

“Wait,” Kit said quickly, catching on to her meaning, “We can’t see him now?”

“Neither of you are family, so no, I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait until the morning.”

“He doesn’t have any family,” JJ said with the same speed and determination Kit had spoken. “He has us. And Kit just brought him here, and he was scared.”

The nurse shook her head, Reid’s file tightening in her hand. “I’m sorry that you’re upset. The only people who are allowed immediate visiting hour exceptions are immediate family, like a spouse or a parent, or a listed emergency contact, in the case of a patient with no familial ties.”

“Well, who’s his emergency contact? We’re not leaving him here alone.” JJ’s eyes were full of a fire Kit would say lined up pretty well with what Gideon always said about her. 

If her eyes really looked like that, maybe he was right to say she was trouble. 

The nurse sighed quietly, opening the file and scanning. She tilted her head as she read the name on the file. “Emergency contact for Spencer Reid is… Dakota. Dakota Col- Colg…”

“Colghain?” Kit asked, eyes wide and eyebrows pulled together. The nurse nodded. “Sure, that could be it. Do you know her?”

“I am her,” Kit said, stunned. She pulled her badge out of the pocket of her sweatpants, flipping it open so the woman could see her name printed clearly along with her picture. 

“Well why didn’t you start with that?” The nurse said, waves of true annoyance coming off of her. “You can come with me, but your friend has to leave until visiting hours start again.”

Kit promised JJ she would call as soon as she could before following the nurse down the cold hallway. Goosebumps erupted along Kit’s arms as they passed door after door, the walk from the ER to General Admissions being so eerily familiar, but so forign at the same time. She’d lost a young man in room 302, and an elderly woman in room 246. She’d walked down the hallway a million times, she just didn’t think she’d be doing it again. Not as a visitor. 

The nurse opened the door to Reid’s room, and Kit had to swallow back the whine threatening to escape. He was paper white, hooked up to an IV with a nasal cannula situated in his nose, pumping oxygen into his fluid-filled lungs. The guilt was hitting her in waves, and she didn’t move for a moment.

_ This is your fault. If you’d checked on him today, or if you’d given a shit on Monday past the fact that the coughing was annoying everyone, he wouldn’t be in this situation. _

“It’s alright,” the nurse said, her annoyance ebbing as she watched Kit stand there with wide eyes. “It can be hard for some people to see all these IVs and machines.”

“I’m a Charge Nurse,” Kit said quietly, using the terminology she knew from the hospital, not the academy clinic. “I’ve just never seen him look like this.”

Kit sat in the chair by Reid’s bed for almost an hour before he shifted, his breath catching and leaving his coughing and sputtering as phlegm tried to work its way out of his lungs. She moved to the edge of the bed quickly, helping him sit up and passing him a bin that he could spit the offending mucus into. She let herself be thankful for one moment that it was her and not JJ there with him, not knowing JJ’s comfort level with all things medically gross. 

“You’re okay,” she said quietly, one of her small hands pressed steadily between his shoulder blades. “Get it out. That’s your job right now.”

“Hurts,” he choked out as he continued to cough, and Kit sighed, rubbing gently across his upper back. “Yeah, I know. Not a choice, though. I’m not going anywhere, just try to breathe when you can.”

It took minutes for him to get control of his lungs back, though he wheezed with every shallow intake of air. He looked at her with glassy, fever bright eyes, his eyes moving slowly around the room before he said quietly, “What did they say?”

“Bacterial pneumonia. They’re putting you on antibiotics and keeping you here at least twenty-four hours. So, really, Saturday morning.”

“I’m allergic-”

“To carbenicillin, I know. I told them.”

Reid seemed to relax slightly at that, knowing that whatever they gave him to combat the infection in his lungs wasn’t going to be his end. Kit helped ease him against the thin mattress again in a position that wouldn’t allow him to drown in his own illness.

It was quiet, save for the occasional cough from Spencer. Her hand was gripped around his, the overwhelming guilt and confusion building as time went on.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, and he opened his eyes to look at her with puzzlement. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I should have given a shit when I sent you home on Monday, and I should have checked in on you today. We probably could have avoided this whole, ‘scary fever can’t breath’ thing.” She was looking down at her hand that was playing with the seam on her pants, the hand holding Reid’s already as tight as she dared.

Reid shook his head lazily. “I’m sorry I waited so long to call you. I knew there was something wrong-” He cut off with a few harsh coughs before he continued. “Earlier. I just didn’t want to bother you.”

“You wouldn’t have bothered me,” she insisted, feeling like she was really looking at him for the first time. He was young, like she was, and he didn’t have any family. It dawned on her that  _ she _ was his emergency contact. Not Gideon. Not even Hotch. She didn’t know if up until that point she would have called them  _ friends. _

But she was the one sitting in his hospital room at nearly four in the morning. And in his hospital room at four in the morning she wasn’t so sure he was a minion or a spy. He just looked like a scared young adult. Just like she was.

“Why is it me?”

“Hm?”

“Why am I your emergency contact? Why isn’t it Gideon?”

Reid didn’t speak for a moment, the air flooding with his sadness. “I asked him. He said no,” he said, voice quiet and trembling with tears that wouldn’t fall. “I should have asked you, Dakota. I shouldn’t have just done it. I’m sorry.”

There was another bout of silence before she nearly whispered, “You can leave it.”

He turned his head to look at her, something like distrust in his eyes. He wasn’t sure. He thought she was joking, or poking fun. She could see it.

“I- what?”

“You can leave it. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?”

“No, Spencer, I don’t. Thank you for calling me.”

He stared at her for a second before nodding just slightly, gratitude filling the space between them.

“Thank you for coming.”


	9. Belly Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 - Belly Ache  
> themetaphorgirl's Patron Saint AU

The knock on the door startles him. He was nearly asleep, curled around Alex’s legs with his head buried in her stomach, both his arms wrapped around his middle as his own stomach sloshed and cramped and swirled. A stomach bug had been ravenging its way through the girls soccer team, and Hotch had been the one to take care of JJ when she’d shown up in the middle of the night, much like Spencer often did, disoriented and upset and covered in puke.

And now, he was paying for it.

“I thought you told Spencer to stay away,” he mumbled up at Alex, words feeling heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t done much but whine since the last time he threw up, and he had a really foggy concept of time, but he was pretty sure it had been a while since any words were said in his bedroom.

Alex nodded lightly, not that he could see her, and she spoke back just as quietly. “I did. I set up Star Wars in the common room.”

“JJ shouldn’t be around either,” he insisted, though his words had very little fight in them. He wouldn’t have minded JJ, but she stank like guilt, and he couldn’t stand her looking at him with her big, sad baby blues. 

“It’s not JJ. She’s watching Spencer, sort of. She’s mostly staring at Harrison Ford and drinking lukewarm ginger ale.”

It wouldn’t be Dave or Emily. Both of them had an aversion to sick people in general. And it wouldn’t be Derek or Penelope. After the latter had found him sick in the southwest hallway, he was pretty sure she was traumatized. And James was at a meeting for the science camp he worked at over the summer.

“Then who-”

“Aaron?”

The voice coming through the door was calm and steady. Gentle. Higher than any of the girls in their little family.

Haley Brooks.

Hotch’s head snapped off Alex’s chest, swiveling to glare up at her while his stomach swung in time. “Alex-” he got out before he gagged, a hand flying to his mouth as he swallowed his stomach back and shuttered. He took a shaky breath before saying with much less fire behind it, “Alex what the  _ fuck _ !”

Her body had tensed, probably worried he was going to throw up on her or something equally gross, but her voice didn’t betray her.

“You should be thanking me, Bubba, not swearing at me.”

“Thank you for what? I don’t want Haley to be here.”

Alex rolled her eyes, running a hand through his disgustingly sweaty bangs. “Yes, you do. When I feel like I’m dying, I want James. Of course I want you and Spencer, but really, I want James.” She started to shift him off of her, moving a pillow to the spot where her stomach had just been under his heavy head. “So you can say that you just want me,” she continued, “But as soon as I open the door you’re going to be a puddle in her lap.”

Hotch groaned quietly, partly because the nausea he’d worked so hard to control had worked itself right back up again in a matter of seconds, and partly because Alex was right.

He  _ hated _ when Alex was right. 

“Do I look as disgusting as I feel?” He asked quietly, and Alex laughed, giving him a sympathetic look before she nodded. "Big time."

He only groaned as she opened the door, the crack not quite big enough for him to see through. Not that he was trying, the pressure in his head was killing him, and he’d shut his eyes when Alex had started to walk away. 

“Hey, Haley.”

“Hey. How is he?”

Haley sounded worried. He hated it when she worried about him. He was a man, he should be able to take care of himself, and take care of her. He wanted her life to be better with him, not more stressful.  _ And _ they weren’t even technically dating. Regardless of what Alex, JJ, and their entire group thought, they hadn’t made anything official.

He was scared.

And an idiot.

“He’s pretty miserable,” Alex was saying, “But he hasn’t thrown up in a while, so take that as you will. Do you want me to stay, or?”

“No, it’s okay,” Haley said, “If you have something you need to do, we’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to go check on the kids. JJ is still pretty miserable, and I left Spencer with her. Call or send a text if you need me, though. I’ll come running.”

“Okay. Thanks, Alex, really. Everyone needs a sister like you.”

Hotch could hear the embarrassment-masking-pride in Alex’s voice. “Oh, god, not really. But thanks. I’ll come check in later.”

The door closed, but Hotch didn’t open his eyes. There was some quiet shuffling paired with light, graceful steps that he’d recognize anywhere as Haley’s. He’s listened to them cross the stage, or the quad, or the hallway a million times. Her paces were even while his were always a bit clumsy, his gangly legs still awkwardly long as he navigated life post-growth spurt. Navigation that included the way he was attempting to be tucked into a ball, knees pulled up as if his whole body tried to protect his stomach from an enemy it was desperately losing to.

The bed dipped slightly as Haley perched her petite frame next to him on the mattress, one of her hands landing with a feather-light touch on his arm. “Aaron,” she whispered, “Open your eyes for me.”

He sighed, bracing himself for the embarrassment he knew was coming, and cracked his eyes open. She was blurry. Alex had made him take out his contacts with shaky hands and he’d spilled the solution on her socks. But still, Haley was sitting there in a sweater and leggings, her blonde hair pulled back from her face with a scrunchie. Hotch liked when she wore it like that, almost as much as he liked it when she wore it loose and curly. He didn’t really care that she was blurry.

“There you are,” she said gently, “Word on the street is you’ve got one hell of a belly ache.”

He didn’t want Alex to be right so,  _ so _ badly. But she was, and as soon as Haley’s hand moved from his arm to his forehead, brushing his bangs back, he cracked.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice starting to tremble as all the fight went out of him.

She worried at her bottom lip, scooching so that she was sitting where Alex had been sitting before. She moved him so that he was laying between her legs, one of her hands naturally starting to cart through his hair as if they’d been in the same position a million times. Something about it was familiar, even though he’d managed to dodge her every other time he’d been sick since they started talking.

“Can I- um. Sometimes at home when Jess or I get sick, our mom will, like…” she trailed off. Hotch watched her face with half-lidded eyes as she worked through several expressions before sighing. “It’s weird to try to explain, but like, fuck it. Do you want me to rub your belly? Would that help?”

Hotch stared up at her for a moment before he nodded sluggishly. Was Haley Brooks, perfect, beautiful, girl-of-his-dreams Haley Brooks, really sitting in his bed, playing with his disgusting, sweaty bangs, and asking if she could help him by rubbing his cramping stomach?

Was he being punked?

“Okay,” was what he answered, and the awkward anxiousness that had plagued her face before melted away to a small, sweet smile. 

It helped, too. Her gentle hands were warm and sure against his cramping muscles, and he found himself sighing quietly. Alex never rubbed his stomach, only his back, and he didn’t want her too. He wanted that to always be Haley. 

She didn’t leave. Not even when he’d started throwing up again, which he found incredibly embarrassing, but she didn’t seem phased by. She was gentle, and compassionate, and she got him back in bed with his head in her lap. She never complained, or made an excuse to go. The silence had always been deafening to him, but Haley filled it, quietly singing or humming under her breath in a way that made his entire being relax. 

“Hay?” He asked quietly after a while. 

She stopped humming, something sort of lullaby he’d never heard, and responded at the same level. “Yeah?”

“I- um. Alex… there was water earlier.”

“In the pink sparkle cup?”

“Yeah,” he said, not feeling well enough to try and feel embarrassed about that. “Can I have it?”

She nodded, shifting to get up before she stopped. Instead she leaned back and grabbed her purse from the floor, rustling in it for a moment before pulling out a bottle of purple gatorade. “Do you want this?”

Hotch’s eyes widened. He didn’t have anymore under his bed, and they’d run out of them in the Lincoln vending machine the weekend before. Alex had told him so when he asked for one hours before. 

“I- yeah. Yeah, how did you know that?”

Haley shrugged lightly and cracked the top of it for him, helping him sit up and handing it over before saying quietly, “You always have one. Just take small sips, okay?”

He gave a shallow nod before taking a small sip, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips.

She knew exactly what he needed without him having to say a word. 


	10. Tissues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10 - Tissues  
> themetaphorgirl's Patron Saint AU

Spencer was watching the battle with wide eyes. From his position on the couch, just behind where Alex was standing, he could see JJ’s pale face perfectly. She was nearly as pale as Hotch got when he didn’t feel well, which was saying a lot, but there was an angry red flush across her face, and an even angrier looking redness under her nose. She’d nearly rubbed it raw, as it had been running like a faucet over the last few days. Spencer was worried. She’d been coughing a lot too. He wanted her to feel better more than anything, and he wished she’d just take whatever Hotch and Alex had been trying to give her instead of blowing it all off like no big deal.

He always took what they gave him, though it was different from what they gave JJ. He was almost always given gross liquid something-or-other, which he would have protested all together if he was capable of taking pills. He didn’t meet the weight requirement.

But he hated the liquid stuff that Hotch and Alex always tried to coax down his throat. The red one made him throw up most of the time. The purple one was viscous and made him gag with every dose. And the pink one was  _ minty _ . Why was the pink one minty?

All JJ had to do was swallow some dumb orange pills, and she fussed and refused over it, always telling Alex and Hotch over and over how she was fine and to just leave her alone. She didn’t like to be babied, just like him, but she usually got her way.

She wasn’t getting her way now. Alex had her feet shoulder width apart, arms crossed over her chest. A power stance. Hotch was sort of to the side, an anxious look on his own pale face. He wasn’t sick, not yet, but it would come. That’s how it always happened. If someone was sick, he and Hotch would get sick. It was only a matter of time. 

JJ was standing in a similar fashion to Alex, but her hands hung at her sides, eyes challenging despite being slightly glassy. She probably had a fever. Alex would know.

Alex knew everything.

“You need to go lay down, JJ.”

“I told you I’m fine. Why are you treating me like a baby? I’m not Spencer.”

“Hey!” he whined, not realizing that his whining would only affirm JJ’s statement. “I’m not a baby. I’m ten!”

JJ rolled her eyes, bringing an arm up and wiping her gross, dripping nose across the length of her sweatshirt sleeve. Alex shifted immediately, her arms uncrossing as she threw them down in annoyance. “That’s fucking gross, JJ! Penelope gave you tissues, why won’t you use them?”

They’d been fighting about it the whole day, and Hotch had yet to intervene. He didn’t get in Alex’s way, not usually, but he almost always defended JJ. Spencer couldn’t tell if it was a loyalty thing, or a sort-of-afraid-of-Alex thing, but either way, he understood. He wouldn’t get in the way of Alex on a rampage either.

“I told you, I don’t need them.”

“You clearly do,” Alex challenged, “Because your sleeve is literally  _ drenched in snot _ . Which is disgusting.”

JJ turned to look at Hotch, who’s eyes immediately went the size of saucers. “Tell her I’m fine, Hotch. I’m not a baby.”

“I don’t really want to get involved,” he said cautiously, a hand moving up to rub at his left ear. Spencer’s eyes darted around like a tennis match, watching the chaos unfold from his spot. Blankie was clutched to his chest, one of the corners having been stuck in his mouth the minute they started arguing. 

“Don’t look for him to tell you any differently,” Alex said, gesturing to JJ’s sweatshirt, “that’s gross. It’s  _ so _ unsanitary.”

JJ pointed an accusatory finger at Spencer, and he sniffed defiantly. “Spencer is chewing on a blanket that literally goes everywhere with him!  _ Chewing  _ on it. It’s in his  _ mouth _ !”

“That’s different!”

“Not, it’s not!”

Spencer watched Alex and JJ go back and forth, eyes moving to look at Hotch as he rubbed at his other ear, then palmed at his eyes. 

Alex ran a hand down her face. All of her usual composure was gone, and with it her normal cadence and her sweet pet names. “Just use some tissues! What’s the problem, Jayje? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand why it’s a big deal,” JJ said simply, tilting her head like a challenge. Alex shook her head and dug a hand in the back pocket of her jeans, producing a travel pack of tissues. “It’s a big deal because you’re fourteen, and you should use tissues when your nose is running. And maybe, also, take something for your nasty cold that you’re going to pass to everyone, because there’s germ-filled snot all over you.”

Spencer hadn’t even noticed that his nose was starting to run until he was sniffling. Quietly, as most things he did were. Well, except when he rambled. Emily said he thought louder than anyone she knew. 

He took it as a compliment. 

His ears didn’t get itchy like Hotch’s did when he was sick. At least he assumed Hotch’s ears were itchy. Hotch rubbed at his ears and his eyes when he didn’t feel well, which made sense when they’d caught a cold or something, but he did it when his stomach hurt too, so Spencer couldn't be sure. 

But Spencer didn’t rub at his ears. He got headaches, right behind his eyes when the pressure built in his sinuses. He’d been nursing a low-level one all day, but it hadn’t really been bothering him, so he hadn’t said anything to Alex or Hotch, and they hadn’t asked. His nose was definitely starting to run, though, and as JJ and Alex fought he tried to keep his sniffling quiet. They were busy, obviously, and he didn’t want to be annoying or add to the frustration. 

“Tissues make my nose burn,” JJ was saying, and sniffling, and coughing a few times. Alex shook her head. “You need to use them.”

JJ looked at Alex for a moment before pulling her arm up to her face, wiping her running nose down the sleeve while maintaining eye contact with Alex the entire time. When she put her arm down she sniffed before saying in a raspy voice, “No.”

Spencer didn’t think about what he was doing, but he mimicked JJ, moving automatically to rub his own disgusting, running nose across the length of his sleeve. He didn’t even realize he’d done it until he heard Hotch say quietly, “Spencer, gross.”

He didn’t think about the implications of what he was doing as he tried to sniffle and went to do it again. Alex turned on her heel at the sound of Hotch’s warning, eyes going wide as she saw what was happening.

“Oh god, Spencer,  _ no _ .” She turned to throw a glare in JJ’s direction. “You see! Do you see what happens? He watches what we do, and now you probably got him sick,  _ and _ he’s going to have gross, snotty sleeves.”

“And?” JJ asked, pawing at her nose with the sleeve of her other arm. Alex threw the pack of tissues at her, where they bounced off her side and hit the floor.

She sat next to him on the couch, brushing his bangs back before palming his forehead. There was a moment where the only sound was JJ’s muffled coughing before Alex sighed. “It’s low, but it’s there. Do you feel sick, darling?”

Spencer didn’t really know what to do. Alex clearly knew that he didn’t feel well, which was weird, because he hadn’t really noticed he didn’t feel well. Except for the headache. And then when his nose started running.

Maybe he had noticed, but he was ignoring it in place of watching the showdown between the girls happen.

“I have a headache,” he said quietly, “and my nose is running. No drainage though, at least not yet.”

She hummed quietly, brushing his bangs back again before cooing quietly, “You should have told me, baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” he said automatically, going to wipe his nose on his sleeve like JJ had done. It was effective, but gross. Environmentally friendly regardless of the fact that it was unsanitary. He could see why she did it. “Plus, Hotch is doing the ear thing.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Hotch said defiantly, though he sounded tired. Hotch always sounded tired.

Alex’s head snapped towards him, and she said in a quiet, even tone, “Bubba?” He hummed his acknowledgement before she spoke again. “Sit down.”

He sighed, but obeyed. 

JJ looked between the two boys with guilty eyes, then down at the tissue package on the ground. “They make my nose burn,” she said again, and Alex shook her head. 

“I understand that, but look. Now, not only are you sick-”

“I’m fine,” JJ interrupted defiantly.

“But you got your brothers sick, and they don’t bounce back like you do. If you’d been using the tissues and throwing them away, the germs might have left them alone. And if you’d gone and laid down like I asked, instead of being stubborn, you would have gotten a lot less germs around them.”

Alex sounded just like Mrs. Clark from the playground. Like a mom. A good mom. He shuffled so he was laying his head in Alex’s lap, letting her run her fingers through his short hair. The more he thought about being sick, the worse he was feeling, and laying in Alex’s lap made things better. At least a little bit. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, causing Alex to sigh unhappily, but she didn’t make a comment. 

Spencer watched as JJ looked between him, Hotch, and Alex a few times before sighing herself. Her eyes were still guilty, but they’d shifted a little. She bent to pick up the tissues from the floor and pulled one out, glancing at Alex with hesitance before blowing her nose wetly into the paper. She wrinkled her nose a few times when she was done before stepping over and tossing the soiled tissue into the trash can by the door and walking out of the room.


	11. Thermometer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 - Thermometer  
> themetaphorgirl's Patron Saint AU

She looked up from her computer again, eyes squinting as she scanned the playground area for Spencer. She didn’t see him right away, which was fine. He was assuredly running around with Nell, Finn, and Lina, playing safari or pirates or superheroes. 

“Wanna borrow my glasses?” Hotch asked, causing her to take her eyes off the play area. “Huh?” she asked.

He was smirking at her, taking a sip of the yellow redbull they’d been sharing before saying, “You’ve been squinting at the play space for like, half an hour. Make yourself blind like that.” His drawl was noticeable, dark marks under his eyes telling of the fact that he was exhausted. Spencer had crawled in his bed the night before for an unknown reason, and according to Hotch, had kicked him several times over the course of the night, keeping him awake since two in the morning.

She scoffed at him, taking the redbull from his hands and taking a sip of her own. She frowned; she didn’t like the yellow one. But the vending machine was broken, and Hotch had only brought the one for him, so she suffered in silence. “Says you. Can you pass an eye test with your glasses  _ on _ ?”

“Of course I can, that’s what they’re for,” he said, smirk not leaving his face, “But Spence can’t. We should take him to the eye doctor at the Target.”

“Speaking of Spencer,” she said, eyes going back to the playground and darting back and forth. Still no sign of him. “Did he seem off to you?”

“You mean when he was flailing around at four in the morning and kicked me in the-”

“No, no not that,” she interrupted, looking around to make sure Mrs. Clark wasn’t listening to them. She had her headphones in and was deeply invested in her Young Living magazine, thankfully not having heard Hotch almost announce how he was kicked in the junk to the entire parent’s area. “He was too quiet on the way here. And when he came to get a drink earlier, he felt warm.”

Hotch shrugged, pawing at his tired eyes. “So? He’s been running around. He probably had a night terror last night.”

“A nightmare.”

“That’s what I said?”

She rolled her eyes, shoving at his shoulder with a smirk of her own. “You’re so Virginian sometimes.”

“Nu-uh.”

“Yu-huh.”

“Alex?”

She jumped, startled by Spencer’s voice right behind her. Hotch jumped too, almost spilling their precious redbull all over the table, but managing to grab it.

“Oh, Spence, you scared me,” she said after a second, shaking the startled feeling in her chest away. 

“Sorry,” he chirped, though his eyes looked tired, and he definitely looked a bit pale. “Can I have some water?”

Alex nodded quickly, pulling his purple water bottle out of her backpack and handing it over. He sipped at it slower than he normally would, especially if he was running around with the other kids the way that caused him to have the flush he was sporting. She worried at her lip, brushing his bangs back and letting the back of her hand linger on his forehead.

He felt warm. Warmer than running around in the climate controlled building would warrant. “You feel a little warm, darling. Are you feeling okay?”

He nodded quickly, mumbling, “Mhm,” before setting his bottle on the table as the other kids ran past, Nell calling to him as they flew by. “Come on, Spencer!”

“Coming!” he called back, pushing at Alex’s hand, which was trying to get a better position on his forehead. “Stop, Alex,”

“But-”

“I’ve been running,” he interrupted. “The energy created by exercise is eighty percent heat energy. Let go, please.”

She sighed and dropped her hand, watching him scamper away with noticeably less energy than he usually had. Her eyes followed him until he disappeared behind a play structure, a sigh escaping her lips as she turned to look at Hotch. “Did you see that?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we’ll keep an eye on him. Maybe he’s just tired. Like I said, I think he had a night terror.”

“A nightmare,” she corrected quickly, earning her an eyeroll before she said, “And he gets those a lot, sure, but mostly when?”

Hotch took a second before he pawed at his tired eyes again. “When he’s sick. Okay, yeah, we’ll watch him. He’s probably fine.” He drained the last of the redbull, and Alex scowled at him before swatting at his shoulder. “Hey, that was  _ ours _ .”

* * *

Sitting in the ice cream shop did nothing to dispel their suspicions of Spencer. If anything, it heightened them. He’d only asked for one scoop of ice cream to his normal insistence on two, and he was sat with one elbow on the table, his chin resting in his hand, as he poked and prodded at his treat with a spoon.

Hotch took another sip of his dairy-free milkshake, glancing between Alex’s worried expression, and the table of munchkins to their right. Nell was chattering happily. Hotch had gotten used to her high voice and the way she could go and go and go without any sense of stopping. None of the other children seemed to mind, and more often than not Spencer would go with her, both of them rambling to their hearts’ content. 

Spencer was as quiet as Finn or Lina, though, and that concerned him. He knew it concerned Alex, too.

“Spencer’s quiet today,” said Mrs. Clark, gesturing to Spencer before nodding at Hotch. “And you look exhausted. Did y’all stay up too late last night?”

“Yeah,” Hotch lied smoothly. He didn’t really  _ like _ lying to Mrs. Clark, but the alternative was to tell her the truth, and they were way too far gone for that. 

She tisked quietly, shaking her head and taking a sip of her veggie whatever smoothie. Hotch hadn’t been listening when Alex had asked what it was, because frankly, he’d probably get sick if he drank it. He sipped at his soy based milkshake of joy again before mumbling to Alex in his very broken Russian, “You’re staring too hard. Obvious.”

“No, I’m not,” she quipped back, hers so much better. Thankfully, Mrs. Clark didn’t know the difference. “Spencer,” She called over to the table, beckoning him with her hand.

He rolled his eyes, but stood up from his seat. His walk to them was lethargic, and Hotch could feel the tension physically wash over Alex.

“What?” Spencer asked, already whining at her. Hotch turned his body so he could watch Alex’s face, knowing that if he started to get lost, he could just mimic her facial expressions. 

“I know you don’t feel well, darling,” she said cautiously, in Russian, all her attention locked on Spencer. He glowered at her. “I told you, I feel fine.”

He discredited his statement, though, when his hand came up to rub at his tired, slightly glassy eyes. If he was going to try to pull one over on Alex, he was committed, and it was going to be hard to convince him to back down.

Hotch got lost in his thoughts just long enough for his brain to get lost, Alex and Spencer going back and forth faster than he could take in, translate, and understand.

“У тебя лихорадка,” Alex was saying, to which Spencer defiantly whined, “Нет, не знаю!”

Fever? Something? He wasn’t sure anymore.

The bell to the shop dinged, a voice Hotch hadn’t heard before calling into the shop. “Oi, Carolina, téimid abhaile.”

It was a boy almost his height, gangly and grinning at Lina. A sibling Hotch hadn’t met. He knew Lina and her family spoke some other language at home, but he wasn’t sure what it was. It only made it harder to try to catch what Alex and Spencer were arguing about, both families and languages going simultaneously.

“Ari, níl mé ag iarraidh dul fós.”

“Caithfimid dul a fheiceáil Gran.”

“Почему ты не позволяешь мне помочь тебе?”

“Помощь не нужна, чувствую себя хорошо! У меня нет температуры! Все хорошо!”

“This is incredibly stressful,” Mrs. Clark mumbled, taking another sip of her off-color smoothie and looking at Hotch. “What are Alex and Spencer fighting about?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said honestly, looking around at the cacophony of sound with wide eyes. He hated noise. It made him want to freak out. “I stopped listening.”

Spencer stomped back over to the table where Nell and Finn were still sitting, Lina having joined her brother at the door. They were speaking in hushed tones now, and Alex put her face in her hands for a second before taking a deep breath.

“You okay?” Hotch asked, in English, needing an auditory break.

“I’m fine, he’s not.”

“Then, let’s go. I’m done, you’re done. He’s playing with his. I’ve got shit to do anyway.”

“Language,” Mrs. Clark warned, not looking up from her phone. “I’ve got  _ stuff  _ to do, anyway” he corrected, rolling his eyes.

Alex nodded, pulling her purse off the back of her chair before stopping. Lina had bounded up, a nervous look on her face. “Alex?”

She looked confused, but she nodded, “Yes, honey?”

“My deartháir says that Spencer looks like he doesn’t feel good, and he’s in a nurse thing at high school, so he knows that kinda stuff. I think so too.” She gave a very serious nod before saying quickly, “Okay, bye!”

She darted towards her brother and out the door, the older boy rolling his eyes before calling over his shoulder. “Bye, Mrs. Clark. It’s Kody next week.”

“Okay, thanks Ari,” she said, glancing over at her twins and calling, “Five minutes, Clarks.”

“Spencer,” Alex called, her eyes a little unfocused as she processed what Lina had said. Hotch grabbed his backpack and hers, handing them over to her before stepping from the table. If he was right, and he usually was when it came to his siblings, he was probably going to be carrying Spencer in the next few minutes.

“What?” Spencer whined at her, and Hotch sighed when she switched back into Russian. Her tone was nonnegotiable, though, and Hotch watched him visibly deflate when she said, “Come here, now. You’re sick, and we’re leaving.”

He stalled for a moment before sighing, walking over to them. “I’m not sick,” he said quietly, almost mumbly enough for Hotch to not catch it. He bent down and scooped Spencer into his arms, noting his too warm skin as the younger wrapped his thin arms around Hotch’s neck.

Hotch buckled Spencer in, ignoring whiny protests as he shut the door and slid into the passenger seat. “Let’s get him home.”

“I’m not sick! I’m not!” Spencer was whining, kicking his legs in defiance as Alex turned the ignition. “Yes, baby, you are. Hotch and I agree, and Lina’s brother even said something when he came to pick her up. It’s okay to not feel well, but it’s not okay to lie when we’re trying to help you. Running around and eating ice cream are not going to help you feel better.”

“I feel fine!”

“You have a fever,” Hotch supplied, earning a dramatic scoff from behind him. “How do you know?”

“How do I know? Alex said it like five times, and I just carried you. You’re on fire, buddy.”

“You don’t have proof! You’re sick all the time, too, maybe  _ you’re _ the one that has a fever.”

“Darling, you’re being a little bit ridiculous,” Alex said, keeping her tone even, but direct. “We’re in the car now. There’s no one but us. You can tell us you don’t feel good.”

“I’m not sick! You can’t prove anything!”

* * *

“I’m just going to carry him.”

Hotch said as he slid out the passenger door, starting to move towards Spencer’s. The younger boy had gone quiet when they’d refused to argue anymore, Blankie in his lap as he fell into an uncomfortable looking sleep. He and Alex had made the executive decision that they were going to buy a thermometer. Spencer said they couldn’t prove it, and he was technically right. Neither of them actually owned one, and they’d never used one with him before. He almost always gave in when Alex told him he had a fever, trusting her to be a good reading for what was warm and what was fine.

He was still sleeping, and Hotch hated to have to pick him up, but they’d also decided that neither one of them really knew what they were looking for. Neither one of them had ever bought a thermometer, let alone one that would work for Spencer and his quirks, so they needed one another. Spencer would have to come in with them.

“We could put him in a cart?” Alex suggested, but Hotch shook his head. “He’s too big for a cart. Barely, but they’re for like, five and under. He’s only, like, sixty pounds, I’ve got it.”

Hotch unbuckled Spencer before gathering him up, moving the boy’s arms to hook around his neck and holding him to his chest. “Okay, let’s go.”

They walked into the store with very little confidence, navigating to the medicine area near the pharmacy, but frowning when they found that there were a lot of options.

“What about this one?” Alex said, pointing to an oral thermometer on the middle shelf. Hotch shifted Spencer in his arms, hoping to keep him in some sort of sleep, however light. 

He squinted down at it and thought. “Is that one of the ones that goes under your tongue?”

“Yeah, just like a normal one.”

“I’ll throw up.” Spencer’s voice was tired and gravely, muffled by Hotch’s hoodie. Hotch looked down at him, surprised by his voice. He’d been sure he was sleeping.

“What was that, bud?”

Spencer shifted his head so his mouth was free of fabric. His eyes were still closed, and the flush across his face was more visible. He'd noticeably paled since the last time either teenager got a good look at him. “I’ll throw up,” he said again, not offering anymore before burying his face back in Hotch’s collarbone. 

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?” Alex asked, moving so that she could rub gently along his spine. He shrugged lethargically, and Hotch sighed. “That’s a yes. Right now?”

Spencer shook his head, burying further into Hotch’s chest, and causing the older boy to sigh. “Okay, that’s good, You let me know, okay? Go back to sleep. I’ve gotcha.”

Alex had moved back to the shelves, pointing at a cheap, in-ear version and shrugging. “What about this? Nothing in the mouth, we could take it while he’s sleeping, even.”

Hotch nodded. “Done. Grab two.”

“Two?” She asked, confusion visible on her worried face. He just nodded again. “Yeah. One for me, one for you.”

“What, like for our bags?”

“No, we could keep one in my room. One in your backpack, so we can avoid this next time.”

Alex nodded, and they took off to the register, buying both, and a redbull, with minimally strange looks from the cashiers. Most of them recognized the strange group of mismatched teens and their communal child.

When they got to the car, Spencer whined as Hotch detached him from the front of his hoodie.

“Sorry, bud,” he said quietly. “We’ll be home soon, and then we can get some medicine for you, okay?”

“I’m not sick,” Spencer mumbled sleepily, as if he didn’t tell them both he was nauseous just five minutes before.

“We can test that theory,” Alex said, waiting for Hotch to move so she could slide into his place. She buckled Spencer’s seat belt first, having to stand on her tiptoes to do it, but then gently put the thermometer’s sensor in Spencer’s ear. After a moment it beeped, and she frowned at the number before holding it out for him to see.

_ 101.3 _

Spencer looked at the number for a moment before his bottom lip started to wobble. “Alex?” She ran her fingers through his hair gently, Hotch watching as all the visible tension drained from her. They didn’t need to fight anymore. “Yes, baby?”

“I don’t feel good,” he almost whispered. 

Hotch let out a breath, heartstrings pulling as he looked at the two of them. Alex dropped a kiss on Spencer’s forehead before cooing quietly. “I know, darling. I know. Let’s get you home.”


	12. Strep Throat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12 - Strep Throat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstreet's back, alright?

"Colghain."

"In theory, how much does your throat have to hurt to warrant a strep test?"

It was nine forty-eight, and Kit was already in her glasses and sweats, and she didn't really recognize the voice on the other end of the receiver. It was scratchy, and sort of going in and out. Female, but beyond that, hard to recognize.

"Um?" She said, pulling the phone back to check the number. "JJ?"

"Yeah, I know, it's late-"

"You sound terrible," Kit interrupted, sitting up from where she'd been laying on the couch, letting her brain wander and spin now that she was showered and not in her scrubs anymore. "How long have you sounded like that?"

The BAU team had been without her in Albuquerque since Monday, and she knew they’d gotten back that afternoon after she’d already gone home from her Thursday clinic shift. She could have waited for them, but it was a rare Thursday that they weren’t playing a set at the bar, and she had planned on going to sleep by ten.

Clearly, no longer her plan.

"Tuesday night. It's probably nothing, but Spence told me I should call you-"

" _ Reid  _ told you to call me?"

"-but it's late. He and Hotch are probably overreacting."

Kit pinched at the bridge of her nose.

_ These fucking people. _

"I'll be over in an hour, if I can catch the ten-fifteen train."

"Oh, Kit, no-"

"Shut up," Kit said, rolling her eyes though JJ couldn't see. "Just don't make fun of my glasses."

JJ’s apartment was dim, but cute, though that didn’t help Kit as she tried to use a flashlight to peer in the back of JJ’s throat.

“What the hell kind of lighting is this?" She mumbled, adjusting the grip so she could shine farther down JJ's throat.

"It's-"

"Shh, rhetorical. Okay. I think I can- Ah!" She cut herself off as she turned the light in a good position. “Oh, Críost, Jay. No wonder your lymphs are so swollen."

"What?"

"Stop, shh," Kit warned, digging in her bag and pulling out an ear thermometer. JJ raised an eyebrow. "Aren't those for children?"

"I have  _ never _ done a round in peds, thanks. Oral thermometers bother loads of people, and this is way easier than waiting forever and the positioning being wrong."

She gestured for JJ to turn her head, and the blonde rolled her eyes before she complied. It beeped quickly, and Kit tisked at the number before starting to put her thermometer and light back in her bag.

JJ sat up taller on the couch. "I've never seen you be a nurse before," she rasped, and Kit shot her a look.

"Please stop talking. You're doing more damage." She felt her eyebrows furrow as she realized what JJ had said. "Wait, also, yes you have."

"No," JJ insisted, ignoring Kit's warning. "I've seen you do some field medic stuff, and give lectures-"

"Meetings."

"But I've never really been down in the clinic. Not while you're there."

Kit shook her head, pushing her sliding glasses back up her nose. "Believe me when I say that this isn't the same me that lives in the clinic. I hardly ever sass my patients in the clinic."

JJ smirked and stood, wobbling a little before she started the short trek to the kitchen. "Just me?"

"Well, it's not often I have any of my friends come in. It's mostly academy cadets and the occasional stiff being sent down by their supervisor.” She finished putting her things back in order and leaned back on the coffee table. She’d been hunched over JJ’s throat for longer than she would have liked, and her back was starting to rebel. “Where are you going?”

JJ mumbled something unintelligible before making the journey back. She was holding two water bottles, and Kit took the one she was offered, mumbling a thanks before sipping at it. JJ sat back down on the couch, shivering just so as she reached for a throw blanket. “So, what do I do?”

Kit sighed and sat forward again, thinking her directions through. “Well, I’m benching you. I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you.”

“Not really.”

“And I need you to actually come into the clinic in the morning. I can’t do a swab test here, obviously. But if we’re being honest, you have strep. There’s no way you don’t.”

JJ sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “That’s what Spence said.”

"Reid, like always, is right," Kit said with mild annoyance. Reid thought he knew everything, and unfortunately for her, it felt like he did. "But because he's right, you need to be on antibiotics." She stopped, her eyebrows pulling together. "Wait,  _ Reid _ said you had strep? On what grounds?"

"He looked down my throat?" JJ croaked, leading Kit to groan loudly and put her face in her hands.

"In ainm Dhia," she mumbled to herself, continuing in unintelligible Irish. JJ sat forward a bit, visibly bracing herself on the couch. "What? What's wrong with that?"

"Please stop talking," Kit said half-heartedly. "I know I keep asking questions so I'm not doing my job either, but the grating is killing me and your throat has to be raw."

"But-"

"What's wrong with it," she said quickly, hoping to stop JJ in her tracks by answering her question, "Is that Reid has the immune system of a very sickly child.”

“He-”

“He’s been sick twice this month, and if he gets strep, he can’t have the antibiotic for it. He’d literally die, and I refuse to play back the whole incident in March. One hospital scare a career, please.”

JJ laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything. “Not in this job,” she rasped. “No way.”

“That’s sort of what I was afraid of when Hotch first told me I was going to be in the field.”

Kit knew it was far too late, and people said things that were too true after midnight, but she kept going. “I’ve been in the field before this job. A few times, just in the district. I love it, but Monty and Ari hate it. The last time I went as just a nurse I ended up, um,” she looked over at JJ before sighing and shaking her head. “I almost got shot. In the chest, but I was wearing a vest, so it was fine. Bruised really bad, and they made me go to the ER and have it checked out, but I was fine. It really scared my cúpla though.”

JJ looked at her for a moment, her eyebrows pulled together. She was confused. 

“Not me,” Kit said quickly, the answer to her almost-spoken question. “It was my fault, and I should have seen it coming. The guy wasn’t supposed to have a gun, it was supposed to be white collar, but things don't always go your way, you know?”

JJ’s eyes looked almost hollow for just a moment before she looked back up at Kit and nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

They were quiet for too long before Kit took a breath and said, “I worked in an ER for a while, and I really don’t like to be on the other side. So, stay away from the boy wonder for a few days? Until the antibiotics start working?”

JJ nodded, giving a tired looking smile and a shiver. Kit nodded towards the door.

“I should let you go to sleep, and sleep myself. Promise me you’ll come to the clinic in the morning? I’ll do it myself if you can get there before 7:30. I try to be in the bullpen by then.”

“And if I don’t want to wake up at the ass crack of dawn?” JJ quipped, sounding far too certain in her tease for someone running a fever of 101 degrees. Kit shrugged. “Monty’s working a double. And trust me, we may be identical, but she’s  _ way _ rougher with a swab.”

JJ’s eyes widened just enough to make Kit laugh, standing and pressing a hand to JJ’s forehead before shouldering her backpack.

“Get some sleep, Jayje.”

She was almost at the door before JJ called after her. 

“Kit?” The redhead turned towards the source of the raspy noise and raised an eyebrow. “Please stop talking.”

“Thank you for coming.”

There was a moment before Kit simply nodded, tightening her grip on her backpack straps and meaning every word of her reply.

“Always.”


End file.
